


Because of You

by Assassin_J



Series: Desmond has a kid, or, How I Learned To Stop Angsting And Love Parenthood [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AC3 spoilers, Archive Warning: CUTENESS, Assassin Kids, Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag, Baby, Canon Divergence, Close to Canon, Desmond speaks Italian, Drama, Emotions, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Game Dialogue, Gen, Gen Work, I swear I'm not consciously trying to put that tag on every single story of mine, Illustrated, Kid Fic, Medical Realism, Modern Day, Past Mpreg, Protective Instincts, Revelations Spoilers, Sequel, Singing, Single Father, Slight AC4 spoilers, The Animus, William actually cares about his son this time, Work In Progress, him and his son are both kinda awkward at parenting but they're trying their darnedest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassin_J/pseuds/Assassin_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a single father isn't easy. Especially when you're part of a secret society that stands against another, vastly more powerful, secret society. After the wild ride of his asexual technologically-induced hermaphroditic male pregnancy, Desmond's now raising a kid. And all that Black Flag stuff is going on as well.<br/>What hijinks will ensue?</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2295608"><em>Kryptokos</em></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father's Feelings

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _I never knew why apples were worth bobbin'_   
>  _I never knew what Batman saw in Robin_   
>  _I never knew why Gene insisted on singing while getting wet_   
>  _I never knew why Will Rogers liked every single man he met_   
>  _But now it's true_   
>  _Because of you_   
>  _I do_
> 
> \- [George Hrab, "Never Knew"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qw8ybZAqQY)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Apple of Eden is described as "some wack-ass prehistoric ball of technology", and the author does another slightly fail-ish illustration.

August 5, 2013

 

Desmond was awoken by a loud cry. _Is that a baby?_ He sat upright and turned his head to find the source of the noise. As his drowsy gaze fell upon the wailing occupant of the crib behind him, memories soon fell into place like a time-lapse jigsaw puzzle composed of all the events since that medical exam in January. 

 

 

 

 _Not just **a** baby!_ He bolted out of bed. _**My** baby. Holy shit._ It still boggled his mind, though part of him knew that, logically speaking, it really shouldn't, since he'd had seven months to get used to the idea.  _Yeah, as if any man could just "get used to" a baby growing inside their guts due to some wack-ass prehistoric ball of technology._

He poked at the screaming newborn, unsure of what to do. _Geez, I read a fuckton about pregnancy, but I didn't read much of anything about dealing with kids once they're born._ "What's wrong, kiddo?" Desmond said hoarsely. "You, uh, hungry or something?" He carefully picked him up and shuffled to the kitchen. The baby quieted during their brief trip, but when offered the bottle, he started to cry again.

"Not hungry. Okay. Uh. Hope it's not..." Desmond checked. It was. He sighed. _Well, I knew this was coming sooner or later._ He shuffled back to his, no, **their** bedroom, removed the small pajamas and clumsily began the awkward diaper-changing process. _Ew, it's all sticky. I'd probably cry too, if this grossness was in my underwear and I couldn't do anything about it._

"Okie doke, kiddo, you're changed," Desmond finally proclaimed, holding him up. "Or I guess I should say 'Okie doke, Andrew' since I did eventually pick a name. You all good now?" Round blue eyes stared blankly in response. Desmond laughed. "Geez, I did it again, huh? Talked to you like you can understand. Well, you're not crying anymore, so I guess that's as good an answer as anything." He yawned and then looked at the clock. _Only eight-thirty?_ "Let's get back to sleep then." He drew Andrew close in a gentle hug, rocking back and forth to soothe him the same way he'd done earlier. "Now, normally I try to be an early bird, but you kept me up all night being born, so I gotta catch up on my sleep."

Desmond felt the tiny rapid thumping of Andrew's heart against his chest, and something Rebecca had said earlier echoed in his memory.

 _"Four out of five doctors don't recommend parachuting off a freakin' skyscraper while pregnant!"_

The implication of these words hadn't hit him before, but it sure as hell was hitting him now. He tried desperately to quash the sad and sickening thought that this baby could have died inside him. That this life could have ended before anyone even knew it had begun.

 _But isn't that what you wanted?_ a voice taunted from inside his head. _You didn't want to be pregnant. You wanted the parasite gone._

"Fuck off," Desmond murmured in response. "Maybe I did want that before. But now I don't want to have wanted that. He's not a parasite. He's a kid." He closed his eyes and dropped his voice to less than a whisper. "And not only that... he's **my** kid."

"Desmond?" He looked up to see his father in the doorway. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just had to change him, and now I'm tryna get him back to sleep."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Andrew, who else?"

"Forgive my skepticism, but I doubt you were telling a four-hour-old baby to 'fuck off'."

"Oh. That. Heh. That part I was talking to myself."

"Come on, Desmond, be honest with me," William said, dubious and concerned. "If you're still experiencing hallucina-"

"I'm not, geez!" Desmond interjected. "It wasn't any Bleeding Effect, I'm just..."

"Just... what?"

"I'm just... a little emotionally mixed-up, y'know. 'Cause of this guy." Desmond indicated the gurgling boy in his arms. "It's just like Shaun said. Things are gonna be weird."

A small smile appeared on William's face. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

The two men fell silent for a couple minutes. Desmond continued to rock Andrew until his breathing became quiet and steady, then set him gingerly back in the crib.

"I'm making pancakes for breakfast," William said softly, fearful of waking his grandson. "Would you like some?"

"Yeah," Desmond said, keeping his voice low as well. "But, uh... can you bring my plate in here? I kinda don't wanna leave him."

When William returned with the pancakes, he found Desmond poring over _Your Baby & Child_, a book that had been gifted, along with many other childcare supplies, to him and his non-existent girlfriend Alice. "Thanks, Dad," he said upon seeing the short stack. "Looks delish."

"Are you finding that book helpful?"

"Actually, yeah." Desmond set it on the bed face-down, open at the page he'd been reading to keep his place, and started on his meal. "It actually says it's okay to have mixed feelings about the kid at first... it's okay to, uh, not love him." He paused to take a bite, chew, and swallow. "So, y'know, if someone who got pregnant the normal way, who **wanted** to have a kid, can feel ambivalent, and that's okay, then, y'know... for me, it's..." He trailed off.

William got the message and nodded. "I can certainly understand that. Andrew was essentially forced on you. None of us will fault you for not feeling attached to him."

Desmond shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I feel attached all right. I mean, he was inside me forever, and he's got my genes and stuff. How could I **not** feel attached? It's just... It's not  **love** , y'know?"

"Yes, I know. You're handling the situation incredibly well. I'm..." He sat down on the bed and squeezed Desmond's shoulder fondly. "I'm glad you got through it."

"Got through what? His birth?" He chuckled again. "What happened to 'You'll be fine, Desmond, you're strong, Desmond, I know you can do this, Desmond'?"

"Well, that's... You were in pain. And you were frightened. I was trying to reassure you."

"But really you weren't sure I'd survive?" Desmond didn't know how he felt about this.

"I was a little worried," William admitted, scratching at his beard. "More than a little, actually. There are so many things that can go wrong in childbirth, even without the complicating factor of the mother being male."

"Don't call me a mother," Desmond said sharply.

"I wasn't- You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I guess," Desmond sighed. "Well, thanks for hiding your worries away while I was freaking out in labor. Wouldn't have helped me back then to know you also thought I'd maybe die." He pushed his last piece of pancake around to soak up the remaining syrup, then popped it into his mouth. "And, on a lighter note, thanks for bringing me breakfast in bed. And you can tell the Missouri Assassins thanks for that book." He gestured to _Your Baby & Child_.

William took the empty plate and fork. "Do you need anything else?"

"Just need some serious shut-eye." Desmond lay back down, adjusting his pillow and trying to relax despite the weird aches still lingering in his body.

"Go ahead, then. You've earned it."

"Hope Andrew stays asleep more than a few hours this time," Desmond mumbled, then yawned deeply. 

"That's all we can do: hope," William said. "You didn't regularly sleep through the night until you were nearly a year old. Andrew might well take after you in that respect. Or he might not. The sleep patterns of babies are unpredictable."

There was no response, for the new father was already out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh goodness gracious. I did not expect to start posting this so soon.


	2. News from the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julia is kind of shit at re-introducing her OCs.

"So, Miss Crane. What news from the enemy?"

There were five people in the room. At the head of the table was the man who had spoken, the venerable Mentor of the Assassin Brotherhood: William Miles. On his left sat Stacey Russ, and next to her, Spencer Vermaak. Colin McCorquodale was on the Mentor's right side, and it was next to him that Rebecca Crane took a seat, having just returned from Montreal. "Where's Desmond? The stuff I found out kinda concerns him."

"How so?"

Rebecca fidgeted for a few seconds. "You sure we can't get him in here before I tell you?"

"Miss Crane," William said, giving her a disapproving glare. "Have you forgotten he's just **given birth**?"

"Yeah, he and Andy are gettin' some much needed shut-eye," Colin informed her, with the same casual air that infused all his speech. "Whatever it is, we can fill him in later."

Rebecca's posture slumped a little. "All right.... They have his DNA."

There was silence in the war room for a couple of seconds before Spencer asked, "What exactly are you saying?"

She exhaled heavily. "After they kidnapped him, Abstergo took blood samples."

Stacey nodded. "Right, their doctors ran a chem profile before clearing him to be used in their Animus program."

"Well, that's not the only thing that they used his blood for."

"Ag, stop beating around the bush and tell us whatever it is already!" snapped Spencer.

"They've figured out how to see his genetic memories without him being there," Rebecca said, the words almost running together.

Now there was silence for five full seconds while everyone was processing the implications of this breakthrough.

Stacey was the first to speak again. "I think it's best we **don't** tell him just yet."

Rebecca was puzzled. "Huh?"

"Something like this is likely to stress him out immensely. He's already going to be dealing with Andrew, as well as recovering physically from childbirth, so he does **not** need any additional stressors."

William rubbed his forehead. "Hm. Yes. As much as I don't want to keep this from him, Ms. Russ is correct," he admitted.

"So we're gonna pretend like nothing's going on?" Spencer thundered. "You gotta be kidding."

"We'll pretend nothing's going on **for now** ," William specified, then turned back to Rebecca. "Are there any **immediate** concerns at Entertainment? Things that need to be acted on quickly?"

"I don't think so. They've only just started looking into Edward's life."

"Whose life?"

"Ah, Edward Kenway. That's the ancestor they're researching right now."

"Kenway," Spencer repeated. "That sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?"

Colin, ever the know-it-all, instantly piped up. "Eddie was Haytham's father. Born 1693, died 1735. He was a sheep farmer, privateer, pirate, and Assassin, in that order. And apparently he's involved in something the Templars want their hands on. And that something is?" He turned to Rebecca.

"Well, I don't know what it's called," she held up her thumb and fingers a few inches apart, "but it's a little square glass deal about yea big with a red blob inside."

Abruptly, William's eyes became more focused and he leant forward. "A Blood Vial?!"

Rebecca seemed a tiny bit scared by the man's intensity. "Uh, it's more a cube than a vial, but, yeah, I suppose the red blob could be blood."

He pursed his lips, contemplating. "So the Order is still interested in those. We thought they'd abandoned the Observatory idea. We thought they were using the NSA et al as a modern replacement."

"Observatory?" Spencer queried.

"First Civilization facility, said to contain a mechanism allowing the user to spy on anyone anywhere, provided that a sample of the target's DNA is placed within one of the Blood Vials."

"Shit."

"Yes, 'shit' is quite apt, Mr. Vermaak. If the Observatory still exists and they find it, then clearly the first thing they'll do is use it with Desmond's DNA to find out where he is. Where **we** are."

There was another long silence. Each of the five Assassins was thinking the same thing: that they could not, under any circumstances, allow that to happen.

Eventually, Spencer spoke again. "How do we know this intel is trustworthy?" he asked warily. "It's been provided by an Abstergo employee. It could be bogus, could be meant to fool us into **thinking** they're still able to see Desmond's ancestors, **thinking** they're on the trail of this Observatory."

"So they're tryin' to psych us out?" Colin asked.

"I wouldn't put it past them."

"I don't think that's likely," said William, shaking his head. "The employee who dug this intel up for us has no idea why she was asked to, no idea who she's handed it over to."

"You can't know that for sure, Bill," Spencer insisted. "Could be Shaun's cover is already busted and they're just using our op to feed us misinformation. Could be their real plans are something completely different and they want us to waste our limited manpower on-"

William cut him off. "I see your point. But there's nothing concrete we should be spending manpower on yet anyway. We don't know how close they are to finding the Observatory, or where they've got their stash of Blood Vials. So we can't make any moves yet, no matter if this intel's correct or not." He fixed his steely gaze on Rebecca. "So, Miss Crane. They're looking into Desmond's ancestry without Desmond himself. Could you modify our Animus to give us this same capability?"

She flashed a brief but eager smile. "I knew you'd ask that, and I've already got a couple ideas on how we might be able to. It'll be a challenge, but I'm raring to go, Bill."

"Good. Make that your absolute top priority. And collaborate with the other cells; pool your knowledge to get this done as fast as possible. If Desmond's ancestor knew the location of the Observatory, we've got to beat Abstergo to the punch on it."

Colin raised a hand. "Maybe Johnny-boy could be persuaded to leak us some of Abstergo's code. So's we don't gotta work from scratch."

William nodded. "Yes, that would be a boon. Whatever we need to do to ease things up for Desmond. He's spent more time in the Animus than any other person alive." The last word was a purposeful nod to Clay Kaczmarek and Daniel Cross. "I'd like him to never have to go in again."

Rebecca's smile was gone, replaced now by a thoughtful expression. "Do you think his genetic memories are still intact?"

Spencer looked at her quizzically. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"His DNA changed since he got pregnant, remember?"

"Yeah, man," said Colin. "Seahorse genes, or summat like that."

"So there's a possibility the Edward Kenway part of his genome was replaced with the instructions for making a baby," Rebecca explained.

"Ag. We're really screwed if that's the case. We'd have to mount a mission to steal part of the pre-pregnancy sample they've got. And they're sure to have a metric ton of security on it."

"All the more reason to not mention any of this to Desmond," William said, "At least not for now. Not until we have more information, some plan of action."

And so it was agreed that this news would be kept from Desmond for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agpblt, I'll try to refactor that second paragraph to be less shitty sometime in the future.
> 
> on a related note, anyone know where I can find a good beta reader for this type of stuff?


	3. Domestic Des is Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond is a fan of AC

August 6, 2013

 

"Hey there bud," Rebecca said, waving to Desmond as he entered the kitchen.

He replied with "Ugh! Why's it so god damn **hot**?!"

"Because it's summer," she stated plainly.

"We have a fucking AC, don't we? Can't someone turn it down?"

"Then it would be even hotter," Colin pointed out.

Desmond scowled at the feigned obtusity. "I mean down to a lower temperature, smartass! Higher power, lower temperature."

"Generator's not doin' too well these days. If we stress it too much it'll burn out and then we won't have any AC at all."

"Ugh. Living off the grid sucks." Desmond opened the fridge and stuck his head in, more to offset his heat than to look for sustenance. In doing so, he spotted a beer among the other cold foodstuffs.

 _Beer. Man, I could really go for a beer. But I can't, 'cause I'm- Wait! I'm not anymore!_ He let out a cackle of maniacal joy and snatched the can, then held it high above his head like a trophy. "Fuckin' A! I can drink this now!" he proclaimed. "I can drink this now 'cause I'm **not pregnant anymore**!"

Rebecca stifled a laugh.

Desmond didn't notice or care about her reaction, though. His fingers were trembling with anticipatory glee, so much so that he had a little trouble actually opening the beer. But he did manage it, and then greedily slurped the refreshing liquid.

"Ahh, that hits the spot," he sighed, slithering into a chair. "Reason number two I'm glad I didn't grow boobs: No worries about getting booze all up in kiddo's milk." He took another swig, slower this time, savoring the previously-forbidden treat.

"Speaking of Junior, how's he doing?"

"Spencer's watchin' him. One of those ten hours of babysitting he promised me, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Oh, while I was in Canada, I told Shaun the happy news," Rebecca informed Desmond.

"Mm.... So your part of the mission's done already? I didn't expect you back so fast."

She exchanged looks with Colin for a fraction of a second before replying. "It was just a quick little rendezvous. Just had to pick up some intel is all."

"What kind of intel?" Desmond queried.

"Uhh, nothing much. Just some specs on the kind of Animi they're using," she fudged. "And now Bill's got me tasked with doing some upgrades to ours so we can keep up."

Desmond chuckled. "But you've always said your Baby is ten times better than anything at Abstergo. What the hell kinda upgrades could it need?"

"Uhh..." Rebecca floundered for a believable answer. "They've got... Their Animi are, like, more..."

"Portable!" Colin said, his voice a little louder than usual. "Their Animi are portable!"

"Portable," Desmond repeated.

"Yeah, they've made it where instead of lyin' down in a chair, you put this little headset doodad on." Colin demonstrated with a hand gesture.

"Oh. I guess that'd be kinda cool," Desmond said, not sounding entirely convinced that such a change was necessary. There was a short silence before he spoke again. "Did Shaun freak the fuck out when you reminded him of my situation?"

Rebecca was glad for the topic shift. "He handled it pretty well, actually. I think it was just the pregnancy part that squicked him. Now that Andrew's here finally, he's probably gonna construct a false mental narrative where you adopted him or something."

"Or where some chick named Allison had him," Desmond said, crumpling the empty beer can on the table.

"Alice," Colin corrected. "Your fictional girlfriend is named Alice."

"Whatever."

"You gotta remember these details, bro, you gotta keep your story straight if you're gonna keep keepin' it secret."

"All right, all right," Desmond said dismissively, then underhanded the crushed wad of aluminum into the recycle bin. "Now I better go take a shower and get all this sweat offa me before my hour's up."

"Don't you wanna, like, actually eat something while you're out here?"

"Well, I **wanna** ," Desmond rubbed the heel of one hand on his temple, "but somehow I've got some kind of... I dunno... backwards morning sickness."

"Backwards?" Rebecca tilted her head and lifted a confused eyebrow.

"Backwards from the regular kind. After the end of pregnancy instead of at the beginning. Ever since the, uh..." He wasn't quite capable of saying the word "birth" right now. "Ever since yesterday, I'm feeling weird and queasy at random times. Like now, for example."

"Postpartum nausea," Colin supplied.

"Is that a thing? A thing that happens normally?"

"Sometimes. Prolly moreso in your case. All those preggo hormones are clearin' out of your system after being there for a while, so you're gonna feel a little jacked up until bodily equilibrium's restored."

"Huh. Well, that's a relief. I thought maybe it wasn't backwards at all. I thought maybe it meant I somehow got knocked up again right the fuck away."

Rebecca snorted. "How would that happen? You haven't touched the Apple again."

Desmond flung his hands up and out in a 'who the hell knows' gesture. "Hey, it made me grow a mangina without touching it again! Is it so impossible that it'd also make me auto-conceive another kid?"

She nodded slightly in acknowledgement. 

"So yeah, I don't think I'd be able to stomach any sorta solid food right now." Desmond stood up and began to leave. "I'll try eating again in a couple hours. Cool refreshing shower'll probly make me feel better." He was almost out of the kitchen, then stopped and turned back, leaning on the door frame. "So... they're still subjecting people?"

Rebecca and Colin glanced at each other again.

Desmond took that to mean they didn't understand his question. "I'm assuming Abstergo kidnapped some other poor guy after I got out, is what I mean. Did you get any info on what's going on with Subject Eighteen while you were in Montreal?"

"I... No, sorry. Didn't hear anything about that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, don't suppose you would. 'Cause Entertainment is like, staffed with normal people who think Abstergo's just some company, right? Makes sense the Templars would keep their evil kidnapping and mad scientist shit in their evil kidnapping and mad scientist division."

"Yeah, it's... compartmentalized," Rebecca stammered.

"'Course it is." Desmond looked at his watch. "Shit, only ten minutes left in my hour, I gotta hit the showers quick!" He skittered out of the kitchen and down the hall, sandals slapping loudly on the linoleum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> illustration to come later... possibly
> 
> chapter title from a hack_generation comment


	4. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the Bleeding Effect leads to cuteness.

August 12, 2013

"So, Desmond. One week postpartum. How are you feeling?"

"Um. Pretty normal, actually, considering the circumstances. Hey, stay still!" This last part was addressed to Andrew, who was trying to wriggle out of Desmond's arms. "You wanna fall on the floor? I don't think so! Stay still so I can keep a hold on you, kiddo."

Stacey smiled a little. "Do you have any complaints to report?"

"Well, that nausea seems to be done. Nothing else to complain about, I guess, except the stretch marks and stuff, but I already know you can't do anything about that. When can I start working out again? I wanna lose this residual belly ASAP. "

She tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... whenever you feel like you can handle it. But start out light, okay? Walking before running, lifting weights before climbing, you get the idea."

He nodded. "Yeah, I got it... Heh, check it out, Stacey. He's doing that thing again, looking for my nonexistent boobs." Andrew was burying his little face in his father's chest, mashing his open mouth against the shirt repeatedly, drawing deep trembles of laughter from Desmond. "I dunno how long it's gonna take him to figure out I don't have anything for him to latch onto."

Stacey chuckled at the sight. "I suppose every baby does that when the person who gave birth to them is holding them. The reflex is a little pointless in this case. Speaking of giving birth, how's your birth canal doing?"

"Ugh." He shuddered. "Can we not call it that? And don't you dare say 'vagina' either!"

"Right, of course, sorry. Okay, how's your... genitalia? Is that better?"

He snorted. "That's a little better, I guess. It's, uh, stopped bleeding finally." Desmond was glad he'd read up on pregnancy and birth, so the postpartum discharge hadn't come as a surprise. It had still been super weird, though. "And hopefully it'll never bleed again, 'cause those pad dealies are fucking uncomfortable. From now on, I just wanna forget that part of me even exists."

"Well, even if you don't menstruate, you will need a Pap smear every few years, okay?"

"Pap... smear," Desmond repeated slowly. _I'm not sure what that is, but I'm pretty sure I won't like it. It sounds gross._

"That's a test done to check for abnormalities in the cervix," Stacey informed him. "Cancer cells, for example. You have a family history of cancer, remember?"

"I..." He looked away, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah.... I remember."

Stacey quickly changed the subject from his late mother. "Okay, then! Everything on your side seems to be fine, so let's check out Andrew now. Let's start with his weight."

Desmond was still inexpert at handling the fragile little human, and it showed in the awkwardness of Andrew's transfer to the scale. He watched over the medic's shoulder as she weighed the neonate. "Yo, I think your thing's busted."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"I mean this doesn't make any sense." Desmond said, tapping the readout. "How can he be six pounds ten ounces? He was seven and two before. I remember exactly it was seven and two, just like Ezio's door code."

This reference puzzled Stacey. "Ezio's... door code?"

"Back in Italy- Oh, forget it." Desmond stopped the explanation almost as soon as he'd begun. "That doesn't matter. Just, tell me why he's lost weight!"

"It's okay, it's normal," she reassured him. "My reference books say babies usually lose about five percent of their birth weight in the first week, from water weight or something."

"Or something?" he repeated, not liking the vagueness.

"I don't know exactly, okay? I'm not a pediatrician, Desmond, and you know it," she said as she handed Andrew back to him. "I'm experienced in patching up injuries, not bringing up babies. Sorry."

"Right. Of course." Desmond let out a soft nervous laugh. "Because there's a lot more dying Assassins than newborn ones, like you said before." The words _dying Assassins_ replayed spookily in his mind, and he found himself hugging Andrew a little closer.

 

* * *

August 13, 2013

  
"Stella, stellina... La notte si avvicina..." Desmond murmured softly as he set Andrew down gently in the crib. "La fiamma traballa... La mucca nella stalla... La mucca e il vitello... La pecora e l'agnello..."

He'd woken up this morning with the tune in his head, and trying to figure out where it was from had driven him crazy for hours. Then as he'd been rocking Andrew to sleep after his midday feeding, the music's context had suddenly flowed into his consciousness. It was a lullaby that had often been sung to the Auditore children.

As soon as he'd had this revelation, Desmond had begun to hum the tune, and eventually the words had come to him as well.

"La chioccia con il pulcino... Ognuno ha il suo bambino... Ognuno ha la sua mamma..." Desmond paused and scratched his head, musing quietly on that last line. "Beh... quella parte non è vero. Non per te," he said to the motherless little boy. He then resumed singing, inserting some additional lyrics.

"Ognuno ha la sua mamma, salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino... E tutti fanno la nanna." He stood there, leaning lightly on the crib railing for a while, not even conscious of how much time passed.

"Desmond?"

"Mm?" he responded to the quiet voice from the doorway, not taking his eyes or his mind off of the sleeping baby.

"I, uh, I'm going up to Montreal again.... Another intel transfer."

"Mm. Bring me a souvenir."

"Sure thing, bud."

"Hey, you know what, Becca?"

"What's that?"

"You were right.... he is kinda cute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter is short orz  
> [here's a video reference for what Andrew was doing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jACAgjbOhmk)
> 
> [here's the lyrics and translation for _Stella, stellina_](http://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=2576&c=120)
> 
>  
> 
> FYI: The current plan is for this story to cover the first six or seven years of Andrew's life.


	5. Bonding and Shit

August 17, 2013

 

"Ah, there you are Desmond," William said upon finding him outside in the late afternoon.

"Yep, here I am, scrubbing a buncha nasty diapers." His voice was edged with loathing. "Stupid fucking Templars." This seeming non sequitur referenced the necessity of using cloth diapers in order to minimize the waste output of their clandestine location.

"Would you like some help?"

Desmond wrung out a river of murky water from a sudsy cloth. "Hah. I'm just about done now. I'll hold you to that offer for next time, though." He stood from beside the large washtub to hang the diaper on the drying line with all the others. "Y'know, I read that breastfed baby poop doesn't smell near as bad as formula-fed. Is that true?"

William made a forced cough. "I've never run a comparison, so I couldn't say."

"Mm." Desmond collapsed onto the blanket beside where Andrew was lying. "So, did you want something?"

"I've made you a present." William held out a bundle of cloth.

Desmond sat up and reached to take it. "Oh? What's the occasion?"

William shook his head very slightly. "No occasion. Just consider it recompense, since my earlier gift was rather shabby."

"No, the cassette's all right," Desmond corrected. "I mean, it doesn't seem to help him sleep, but sometimes it works for calming him down when he's grumpy."

"Well, this will be more useful. Go ahead and try it on so I can see whether it fits."

Desmond unfolded the bundle. "Uh... It's a..."

"Baby carrier."

"Baby carrier. Huh." Desmond's mouth twitched in a smile. If this "unmanly" gift had come with the others at that party a couple months ago, he'd have greeted it with instant scorn, but now he felt only gratitude. "So I can have him on me and still be able to use my arms. Cool beans." He held up the thing and turned it back and forth. "Um. Which way do I wear it?"

"He goes in here, in the front." William indicated the pouch part.

"Oh, I see. Like a reverse backpack. All righty. Let's give it a whirl." With a little help from his father, Desmond put it on, placed Andrew in it, then cautiously stood up. "Huh. Seems to work pretty good."

"Fit all right?"

"Fits all right on me. It's a little big on him," Desmond put a hand inside the pouch to demonstrate the extra space, "but I guess that's to give him room to grow?"

William nodded.

Desmond smiled. "Thanks, Dad. ...I love it."

"Just let me know if it needs any adjustments."

This last word reminded Desmond of something. "Oh! Speaking of adjustments. I heard you asked Rebecca to make our Animus portable?"

"I... ah," William stammered.

"I think that's kinda stupid, honestly. Don't you have anything better for her to do?"

"Ah, you're quite right, Desmond," William said, setting his facial features carefully. "Portability isn't really a high priority."

"I mean, it woulda been handy last year, when we had to keep running around to different hidey-holes. But now we're settled here, and we're not even using the Animus at all anymore, y'know?" Desmond shrugged, and this familiar action felt a little strange with the added weight of Andrew in the carrier.

"Right, we're not," William repeated, putting a fatherly hand on Desmond's shoulder. "You'll never have to use the Animus again."

"Heh. You can't be sure about that, Dad. Who knows what other crazy shit is buried in my genetic memories that we might need to fight the Templars?"

"We've fought Templars without the Animus' help for a long time, Desmond," William said firmly. "I don't want you to suffer through any more of that."

He felt curiously uncomfortable at this open expression of his father's caring side. "You're making it sound like it's some kinda torture device, Dad."

"That is essentially how they used it with you, and with their other subjects."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't all pain and suffering. I got some mad skills out of it, remember?"

William's response was a throaty "Hmf."

"And yeah, I know you've fought them without the Animus, but you and I both know we're not really doing that well against them these days," Desmond pointed out. "So if the Animus can give us an edge in the fight, we gotta use it to our advantage."

There was a barely audible sigh. The hand on his shoulder moved to adjust the carrier's strap slightly.

"I mean... yeah, I get what you're saying, about it being kinda hard on me. I admit it's not super fun, but I can deal with it, all right? Like how I'm dealing with Andrew." Desmond looked down at the baby and rubbed his head lightly, careful to avoid the soft spot.

"So..." William's fingers joined Desmond's in running through the feathery brown hair. "Should I take that to mean you've... adjusted to fatherhood by now?"

"Well..." Desmond faltered. "It's still kind of weird." He moved his hand and allowed Andrew's tiny fingers to wrap around his thumb. "I dunno how much of that is normal getting-used-to-new-baby weirdness, and how much is... y'know, 'cause of how he happened."

"Mm." This sound concealed the barest hint of a chuckle.

"But, yeah, I seem to have the basics down by now. Feeding him, changing him, washing him, holding him... By the way," Desmond looked back up at his father. "I don't think you've held him yet. Do you wanna?"

"I, ah..." William's expression was somewhere between flustered and honored. "All right." He held out his hands stiffly.

Desmond removed Andrew from the carrier and delicately placed him in William's arms. "Got him?"

At a loss for words, he simply nodded, slack-jawed.

Andrew scrunched his nose and began to make some babbling noises of discontent.

"Hey, don't be like that, kiddo," Desmond mock-scolded. "Be nice to him, he's your grampa. Plus he's the Mentor, so you gotta be double-nice to him."

The noises didn't stop. William looked stricken.

"Umm, try tickling him. He likes that," Desmond suggested.

William cradled him in the crook of one arm and poked at the slightly rounded tummy. Almost instantly, Andrew's mouth twitched into a grin.

Desmond smiled. "There you go. Just be careful of his new belly button." He indicated the tender red spot where the umbilical stump had recently detached.

William began to laugh softly along with Andrew, and Desmond couldn't help but join in.

After a few minutes, William sighed deeply and contentedly. "Well. That brought back a lot of memories." He slipped Andrew back into the carrier, then cleared his throat and put back on his serious face. "Now then. Back to my previous question: Are you fully adjusted to dealing with Andrew?"

Desmond's forehead wrinkled. "Define 'fully adjusted'."

"Do you think you could deal with him properly, while also participating in Assassin activities? Not missions yet," he quickly specified. "We're not sending you on any missions for the foreseeable future."

"Define 'foreseeable future'?"

William rubbed his beard, contemplating. "Six months to a year, at least."

"Aw, geez." Desmond felt the weight of that time period almost like a physical blow to his body.

"You did decide that you would raise him," William said with a well-practiced scolding tone. "We did raise the option of sending him off to another den, and I distinctly remember your answer: 'No, I don't want that.'"

Desmond sighed and rubbed Andrew's hair again. "Yeah, yeah. You're right, of course. And the first year is really important for bonding and shit, s'what the book said. It's just... I already had to sit on the sidelines for months after finding out I was knocked up. And now another year on top of that. Fuck."

"I didn't say it would definitely be a year, Desmond. And besides, there's more to being an Assassin than going on missions."

"You mean meetings and stuff."

William nodded. "Meetings, training, den maintenance, logistics, research. The list goes on and on. So, what is your answer? Are you fully prepared? Or would it stress you too much, do you need more time off?"

"Stress?" Desmond threw his head back and cackled. "Dad, after all the shit I've gone through, the kidnapping, the coma, the doomsday, the fucking unplanned male pregnancy and birth? I think I'm pretty much immune to stress by now."

The Mentor fixed his iron gaze on Desmond. "You're seriously ready?"

"Hell yes, Dad. I'm ready."

William opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a bright flash of light, which startled Andrew into crying.

"Hey, relax, kiddo," Desmond said to the bewildered baby. "Don't be scared. That's just Colin and his god damn stealth photography." Despite the usage of "god damn", his tone made it clear he was amused rather than angry.

"Yeppers. I've been on the lookout for a nice shot of the three Miles males all together, and this was a golden opportunity," came a familiar airy voice from the trees above. "I didn't realize I had the flash on, though. Now I gotta take it again, it's all washed out."

Desmond switched on his Eagle Vision and looked into the leafy canopy. "He's over there," he told William, pointing. "How about we give him a nice trio of smiles?"

However, the elder Assassin was not in a smiling mood. "Mr. McCorquodale!" he fumed. "You're supposed to be watching the perimeter, not playing paparazzi!"

Colin sighed. "Yes, Mentor. Sorry, Mentor."

Desmond watched the skinny blue form lope away through the treetops, and then turned back to say something to his father, but the words evaporated from his tongue and were replaced by "Holy shit!"

William was justifiably troubled by this. "What's wrong?"

"I... Andrew..." He'd just seen what his son looked like in Eagle Vision, and it left him nearly speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's a cliffhanger! And also there's another reader poll!  
>  **Which part should I attempt to illustrate?**
> 
>   * A: Chapter three's "He let out a cackle of maniacal joy and snatched the can, then held it high above his head like a trophy." 
>   * B: Chapter four's "He stood there, leaning lightly on the crib railing for a while, not even conscious of how much time passed." 
>   * C: Chapter five's "With a little help from his father, Desmond put it on, placed Andrew in it, then cautiously stood up."
>   * D: Something else?! You tell me?
>   * E: No illustrations! Focus on writing, because [you are a drawing novice!](http://atlantima.deviantart.com/art/AC-Memes-I-am-a-drawing-novice-485770056)
> 



	6. Glitter in the Darkness

"Andrew what?" William probed.

"He's... he's not blue," Desmond said, stupefied.

"Not blue," repeated William blankly, unsure how to take this news. The whole concept of Eagle Vision was still quite strange to him. He'd never really believed the tales told about this alleged ability. Yes, it was quite probable that some masterful Assassins could deduce people's loyalties by close observation, or could have a really good eye for hiding spots. But a literal second sight? That was preposterous. Or it was until his long lost son suddenly had it. "...What color is he, then?"

"He's just... nothing. Like..." Desmond blinked, squinted, blinked again. "There's kind of some sparkly things, but mostly nothing. I don't get it." He stared intensely at Andrew's chubby face, a pale patch of silver-gray between his and William's blue radiance. "What's the deal, kiddo? Both your parents are Assassins, so why aren't you... hm. Oh." Then he laughed and switched back to normal vision.

William gave him a quizzical look.

"Derrr, of course you're not blue." He smiled and beeped Andrew's nose, eliciting a happy squeal. "You're not even old enough to walk or talk, let alone understand this whole Assassin/Templar thing, so Eagle Vision obviously categorizes you as a civilian."

Andrew made a series of drooling babbles, possibly an attempt to communicate.

"I suppose that makes sense," William said slowly.

"Yeah, he's like a total blank slate, he doesn't know anything except how to eat, sleep, cry, and poop." Desmond's face went a little pale. "Oh man... I'll have to teach him everything. **Everything**. Not just normal kid stuff like walking and talking, but I gotta teach him about the Creed and the Templars and all the history with Altaïr and Ezio and stuff too."

"We'll be here to help with that," William said good-naturedly. "You're not alone in this."

Desmond looked into his father's eyes. "Thanks."

He waved a hand dismissively. "You don't need to thank-"

"Well I wanna say it anyway, so ...Thanks."

"We're a brotherhood, Desmond. Meaning we work as a team. In childrearing as in everything else." William patted his shoulder again.

"Speaking of which: Did you have some sorta special assignment for me? Now that I've assured you I'm fit for duty again?"

William's face tensed. "Ah. There are some... things... going on with Abstergo."

"Things?" Desmond stifled a laugh. "Uh, can you be a teensy bit more specific?"

"Well... we're still piecing it together, actually," William lied. He felt somehow unable to reveal the dismal fact that Abstergo was still using Desmond's genetic memories. "The situation is... complex."

"Is it about Subject Eighteen?"

William sighed. "There is no Subject Eighteen."

"Seriously? You mean they've given up on that whole project? Or they just haven't kidnapped their eighteenth guy yet?"

"Not all their subjects were kidnapped, Desmond," William said. "Some volunteered. For example, Subject Two was Vidic himself."

"Huh." Desmond digested this factoid for a few moments before he spoke again. "That's interesting, but it doesn't answer my question."

William sweated in silence. Then, from out on the water, a goose honked noisily. The sound frightened Andrew and he began to squirm and cry.

"Hey, chill out, kiddo," Desmond said, wiping the tiny tears away. "It's just a stupid bird, it's not gonna hurt you." He looked back at William. "So, you don't have any assignment for me?"

"Ah... not as of yet, no."

 _Why's he all nervous and shit? It's like he still doesn't think I'm ready for whatever it is. When did he become Mister Hyper-Protective Dad? Ugh._ "Having a uterus doesn't make me any less capable of doing stuff, you know," Desmond said testily.

William frowned. "I know that, Desmond. It's just... there's nothing in particular that we need you for right now."

 _Hah! Then why was he all insistent on knowing whether I was ready? I guess it'll take some time for him to realize I'm not suddenly some weakling just because a baby came outta me._ His mouth went dry. _God damn. A baby really came out of me._ "Well... can you at least tell me how long Shaun's gonna be out on this current mission deal? Not like I miss him or anything, I just-"

"Actually," William interrupted, "he'll be coming back briefly sometime next week to give us a briefing. A summary of the Entertainment situation." He covered his mouth and coughed. "What's the meaning of the, ah, sparkles?"

"Huh? Oh, on Andrew. Um..." Desmond turned back on his Eagle Vision. Flickering glimmers outlined his son. "I guess it means... he's important? I'm supposed to protect him? Heh. As if I didn't know that already." He took a gentle hold of both the boy's hands. "Yeah, I didn't want to have a kid, and I didn't like all that pregnancy shit, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna love this little guy now that he's here."

There was another short silence before the elder Assassin cleared his throat. "I... I'm glad you're satisfied with the carrier. I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Uh, okay. See ya," Desmond called after him.

It wasn't until half an hour later, while mixing up a bottle of formula for Andrew, that he realized what he'd said.

_"Doesn't mean I'm not gonna love this little guy."_

_"Love." Do I love him? Is this what parental love feels like? Shit, I don't know. Maybe?_

_I wanna protect him, but that's just because he's a baby, he can't protect himself. Assassins protect people all the time. That's not love. Is it?_

_I was worried when Stacey's scale said he lost weight. Because I want him to be healthy. Is that love?_

_I want to teach him what I know. Because I want him to grow up right, and not make the same mistakes I made. Is that love?_

_Instead of foisting him off to some other den, I decided to raise him here. Because I want to watch him grow up. Because I want him to know he's my kid. Is that love?_

Desmond clutched his heaving chest. Behind the ribs, an unfamiliar warmth was aching.

Rebecca, sitting at the kitchen table and cuddling Andrew while Desmond fixed the formula, now noticed his discomposure. "Hey, are you... crying? Or laughing?"

"Kind of both," he sputtered quietly.

"Um. Dare I ask why?"

He wiped his eyes and turned to face her with a stupid grin. "Eh-heh... I just realized... I think I love my kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the chapter title caused anyone to get a certain pop song stuck in their head, I do sincerely apologize.


	7. In Memory's Mystic Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond doesn't know how babby was formed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh I know I promised an illustration, I haven't forgotten, I've just got a little art block going these days
> 
> please enjoy this chapter of weirdness and fluff to tide you over
> 
> it turned out longer than I expected

August 19, 2013

The first time, it had been scary. The tower had seemed a mile high. _Probably wasn't more than forty feet, really. Maybe fifty. But, in fairness, I was like ten years old._

Height notwithstanding, the climb hadn't been the scary part. The scary part had been teetering out on unsteady legs to the edge of the jutting plank, feeling like he could be blown away by the savage wind at any moment.

However, the worst part had to be the Leap itself. Prodded into action by the scathing jeers of teenagers below, else he would have turned and climbed back down the tower. Sixty-eight pounds of novice plummeting earthward, unbearably sickening sensations in his gut and in his head.

Even the landing had been cruel. The haystack may as well have been a pile of needles, for the sharp straws greeted his trembling body with a barrage of pinpricks, some drawing tiny dots of blood.

The next time hadn't been much better. Nor the next after that. He'd learned through protracted trial and error how best to arrange his limbs to minimize pain on landing, but the rest of it was still agony. Out of all the exercises Desmond and the other novices were put through on the Farm, this one in particular seemed the most pointless. It might have been more bearable had he understood the purpose of it.

But nothing seemed to have purpose back then. His queries of "Why?" were always met with "Because we're Assassins" and other similarly vague non-answers.

And so he'd eventually left.

The next time he experienced the Leap of Faith, it was performed with the masterful grace of Altaïr, rather than his own stumbling clumsiness. But it was still scary. The fear of the height and the fear of the fall were compounded with fear of Abstergo, of Vidic, of the bizarre machine he'd been forced into.

Ezio injected his own swaggering pride into each Leap. Desmond was a little more used to it by then, but it was still unnerving.

He couldn't say exactly when he'd begun to relish the feeling of wind rushing over his body, of diving fiercely like an eagle swooping down on prey, of landing with a barely audible rustle of leaves. But the fact was he really enjoyed doing Leaps of Faith now.

Apart from mere enjoyment, he also now understood the purpose of it. There was, of course, the purely practical nature of the move- getting from a higher place to a lower one quickly- but it also served as a show of courage to anyone who might be watching, and a test of mettle for the leaper. "Assassins are fearless" was the clear message. In addition, climbing to a high vantage point helped one get the lay of the surrounding land, and locate one's objective more easily.

As he clambered up, Desmond notated these purposes well in his mind, the better to remember them so they could be explained to his son in the future. _Don't want him to run away. Want him to know what being an Assassin is really about. Don't want him to hate me like I hated Dad._ During his descent, he had a brief weird vision of a rebellious teenage Andrew: scowling babyface, hunched shoulders, crystal blue eyes rolling sardonically. _Wait, why am I imagining him with a mullet?_

"You wanna know your time?" Spencer asked hesitantly when Desmond emerged from the leaf pile at last.

"Pff, I know it wasn't as good as usual," Desmond said, twisting and stretching in an attempt to rid himself of a sudden crick in his neck. "Go ahead, let me know just how bad I did."

"Just under three minutes. For reference's sake, I think you used to do around fifty to sixty seconds."

Desmond felt a stab of bitter disgust at how his skills had lapsed. "Cut me a break! Obviously I'm outta practice since I've been on paternity leave!"

Spencer held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just reporting your time, I'm not judging you, man! We all know you been through some rough stuff lately! Your body got put through the wringer!"

"Yes. Yes it did," Desmond said firmly, then turned back to start up the tower again. "Still, three minutes is fucking terrible. I gotta slice that down some."

After dozens of repetitions, he finally reached the point where his time- from touching the tower's first handhold, through the climb and the Leap, to hopping out of the leaves- was a minute forty. "Guess that's good enough for now," he said, brushing debris from his hair. "Damn, I need a trim. It's getting a little too shaggy for my taste."

"Speakin' of hair..." Desmond turned to see Colin approaching them, carrying Andrew. "Li'l Clay A's kinda sheddin' his, have you noticed?"

Desmond blinked. "Clay A?"

"You know, like Clay Aiken, but not."

"Again with the stupid nicknames. Give 'im here." Desmond practically grabbed the baby away. "Can you please not call him that?"

Colin shrugged and nodded in acknowledgement of the request.

"Actually, I don't want anybody to mention anything about his other parent around him."

"What? Why?" Spencer asked.

Desmond frowned slightly. "Well... I want him to just be Andrew."

"But he might not be Andrew," Colin pointed out. "He might be Cl-"

" **Don't!** " Desmond interrupted. "Don't even say his name!"

Spencer chuckled. "Dude, he's not Voldemort, he was one of us, one of the good guys. And he saved your life, in case you forgot."

"Look, I don't want this kid to be him!" Desmond spat, covering Andrew's ears and holding him tightly. "In case **you** forgot, he was a mental case. Yeah, he was super great at hacking and he helped us all out, but he was still a mental case! Even before the Bleeding Effect got him!"

"Dude, I knew him before he went to Abstergo," Spencer interjected, "and he seemed pretty well-adjusted."

"Oh yeah?" Desmond snarled. "Then why do I have all these memories of him going to the shrink for therapy? Look, I'm not trying to badmouth the guy, and I'm not saying I don't appreciate his contributions to the cause, I'm just saying I want Andrew to be normal! So, on the off chance- the  **incredibly** off chance that Sixteen cloned his brain somehow, maybe we can, y'know, keep him from remembering his previous life, if we just don't talk about him!" He ended his rant there and then took deep breaths to relax his mood, aware that his stress was upsetting Andrew, who was beginning to squirm and make little agitated whines.  "Shh, shh, calm down," he whispered, uncovering the baby's ears. "Sorry I got all worked up. Shh... shh...."

"That's kinda harsh, bro," Colin said. "That's basically killin' him, isn't it?"

"Sixteen is already dead," Desmond stated firmly.

"His original body, yeah, but if his mind's inside the body you've named 'Andrew', then he'd still be alive in a manner of speakin'. Even if that mind isn't fully developed yet."

Desmond scowled. "That's insane, Col. Think like this: I used to get crazy episodes where I thought I was Ezio or whoever. When Rebecca and Shaun snapped me out of it, were they 'killing' Ezio? Since his mind was technically extant during the Bleeding Effect?"

"Hmm. You know, I never thought of it like that." Colin rubbed his chin. "Heck of a philosophical conundrum."

Spencer was less concerned with the metaphysics and more concerned with the practical consequences of Desmond's decision. "So, you gonna just raise him up thinking he's only got you as a dad, and not even tell him that Clay exists? Or existed, or whatever? Gonna raise him to think his ma's dead or-?"

"I can raise him how I want, he's **my** kid, remember? I finally got to the point where I'm okay having a kid, and I don't think I could deal with it if he's actually the reincarnation of his own father. That would just edge this situation into 'too crazy for me to handle'."

There was an awkward silence amongst the group for far too long before Colin forced a cough and changed the subject. "Yeah, so, like I was sayin'... I noticed his hair's fallin' out."

Desmond appreciated the topic shift. "Well, that's no biggie, according to what I've read." He ran a finger softly through the thinning locks. "See, that's like, just his starter hair, and some new hair's gonna grow in after it. It might even be a different color."

"Man. That's weird," Spencer said, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

Desmond laughed. "Naw, that's actually one of the least weird things I've seen in a long time. This barely qualifies as weird at all. It's just like how you get baby teeth and then you get normal teeth."

 

* * *

 

"You gotta stop shitting so much, kiddo," Desmond chided as he buttoned Andrew's pajamas over a freshly-changed diaper. "Not like I've been keeping count, but I think you're just about coming up on your five hundredth diaper or something, and you're not even a month old."

The baby only coughed in response.

Desmond let out a breath of resignation. "You can't help it, of course. Well... It's about nine o'clock. I've decided that's gonna be your bedtime, all righty? Even if you're not gonna sleep the whole night, I'm gonna put you to bed nine sharp every night." He transferred Andrew from the changing table to the crib.

"You, uh, you want a bedtime story?" Desmond asked, although he obviously didn't expect an answer and was already at his bookshelf. "Ah, here we go. Good ol' Lewis Carroll." He pulled the book out. "This was a present from your uncle Shaun, you know? Well, heh, of course you **don't** know Shaun, he's been out on his mission since before you were born. And of course he's not literally your uncle, 'cause we're not brothers... I mean, I suppose we're like, metaphorically brothers, 'cause we're both in the same Brotherhood. Actually, maybe you do kinda know Shaun already, 'cause one of those books said that unborn babies can distinguish between voices they hear. He's the annoying guy with the British accent."

Andrew coughed again. Desmond chuckled. "I guess that's your way of saying 'Shut up and get to the story already.' All right, then let's get started." He sat on his bed, resting the heavy book on the crib railing. "There's a buncha intro stuff but I'll skip that and get right into chapter one: Down the Rabbit-Hole." He cleared his throat softly and then began to read. "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do..."

 

* * *

 

"...but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way. So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. And that's the end of chapter one."

Andrew was by now very soundly and adorably asleep. Desmond unconsciously smiled again, replaced _The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll_ on his bookshelf, and then, on a whim, took out the photo album Colin had made.

He flipped lazily through the pages, reminiscing over the various Polaroids of his gravid self. _Heh, no. Not "reminiscing". That implies I was actually enjoying being pregnant. I'm definitely not "reminiscing", just "remembering"._

Turning another page, he came upon the photo of Clay. Of happy, pre-Abstergo, pre-Animus Clay. Desmond glanced briefly back at Andrew. _Am I just being paranoid? What are the chances he's actually got Clay's mind?_ He set down the album on his bed and pondered the possibilities.

_Hypothesis one: Juno got a hold of his DNA and for some insane reason used the Apple to make me pregnant with his kid. Then he'd just be normal, no Clay mind, just some Clay genes._

_Hypothesis two: Juno had nothing to do with it, and Andrew got accidentally conceived when the computer-Clay was doing whatever to save me from the Animus failsafe. I have no idea how the hell getting all Clay's memories and stuff downloaded in my brain would make me grow a uterus, but who the fuck knows, I guess it's possible. Or maybe... I have a bunch of freaky First Civ genes, right? And Rebecca said maybe they could all get pregnant, and didn't have separate sexes. Maybe I've **always** had a uterus._ Desmond was more than a little disgusted at the thought. _Damn. So. If I always had a uterus... then Clay's digital DNA got mixed up with my actual physical DNA, and that's how Andrew got made. Same net effect, I guess: normal kid, no Clay mind._

 _Hypothesis three..._ Desmond shuddered. _Three is the same as two, except the conception was no accident. Clay did it on purpose. Just like he said. "A way out. Another body."_

 _So. The chances are one in three that Andrew's not really Andrew._ Desmond slowly ran a fingernail over Clay's photo. _One in three... and no way to tell whether he is or not until he learns to talk._ He then made a sudden movement, pulling the Polaroid from its plastic sleeve. He almost crumpled it in an angry fist, but then had a change of heart and put it away in the back of his underwear drawer.

Then he returned to browsing the album. That page looked positively naked with the Clay photo gone. Desmond scratched his head, hair newly shorn back to its usual length, then got an idea. He left the room and returned with a small pair of scissors. Gently, slowly, cautiously, he trimmed a few inches of soft beige from the little hair remaining on Andrew's delicate scalp, then slipped the lock into the empty photo sleeve.

Desmond sighed and looked back into the crib, watched the slow steady rise and fall of the little boy's chest as he slept. "If you do turn out to be Clay... No." He shook his head resolutely. "No. I'm not going to think about that anymore. Odds are you aren't. Odds are you're just a kid. You're just a normal boy named Andrew Miles." Desmond felt another stab of heavy emotion, and collapsed into bed. "Normal, except you gotta grow up in the Assassin Brotherhood," he whispered. "Sorry 'bout that, kiddo. I know it's not a super fun life. But I'll do what I can to make it easier on you than it was on me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working title for this chapter was "The Clay Conundrum"
> 
> please imagine Andrew's pajamas as [something like this](http://www.tushiewipers.com/wp-content/uploads/sleep-n-play2-161x280.jpg)
> 
> The next chapter's about half done already. Shaun shows up, so look forward to that!


	8. Snark, Squick, and Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative title: "Return of the Snark"

August 24, 2013

Rebecca ran a finger over the smoothly sanded edge of the high chair and whistled. "Wow, Bill built this? In addition to making that baby carrier?"

"Yep, turns out Colin isn't the only one with woodworking skills around here," Desmond said, giving the high chair one last jiggle to test its stability before placing Andrew in it. "Pretty slick construction for how fast he made it, huh?" Andrew, it turned out, was as yet unable to sit up on his own, so Desmond quickly picked him back up and kicked the chair into a corner, making a mental note to try again in a couple months.

"Man, he's gonna spoil that kid rotten if he keeps up like this," Rebecca said.

"Well, he's his grampa, so I guess he's permitted to indulge in a little spoilage."

"Oh, yeah." She grinned. "Of course he's permitted. Everything is permitted."

"Yes, I always thought that was a metaphor, but no!" came an exasperated voice from the corridor.  "No, literally **everything** is permitted, even bloody men having bloody babies! By immaculate conception, no less!"

"Nice to see you too, Shaun," Desmond said with a smile as the historian entered the kitchen. "See, Andrew, that's the annoying guy I was telling you about the other day."

"Annoying, am I? I doubt I'm half as annoying as the baby."

"Nah, Andrew's not annoying at all. He's pretty awesome actually, he gets that from me. You wanna hold 'im?" Desmond held the boy out toward Shaun, who shrank back slightly.

"No thanks, I don't know where that's been. Wait, strike that! I know **exactly** where it's been! It's been..." He trailed off and made an odd gesture in the air near his crotch.

Desmond's nostrils flared and he pulled Andrew back into a hug. "Dude! Not cool! First off, he's not an 'it', he hasn't been an 'it' for months! And second off, I have fucking **washed** him since he was born, asshole!"

"Oh. Of course." Shaun's expression softened as he realized the undue harshness of his previous words. "Well, at least he did manage to finally **be** born. I'd almost thought you'd-"

"Stay pregnant forever? Heh, I kinda thought so too. But nope, you were just takin' your sweet time, right, li'l guy?" Desmond cooed, nuzzling Andrew's face. "You knew it was a big scary world fulla Templars an' stuff out here, so you didn't wanna come out, huh?" A tiny hand grabbed at Desmond's nose, and he smiled again. "Don' worry, kiddo. I'll keep ya safe. Any Templars wanna get you, they gotta go through your badass daddy first."

Shaun made a strangled sound of nauseation and turned away. "What's your problem?" Rebecca asked him.

"My 'problem' is all that bloody affection." He waved a hand toward Desmond and Andrew. "Positively sickening."

"What, you couldn't deal with me being pregnant and now you can't deal with me loving my kid?" Desmond jeered. "You're such a wuss! Bet you woulda just had a heart attack if you'd been here while I was in labor!"

"Baaah! Don't even mention that, please!" Shaun implored, collapsing into a chair.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "You hearing about it wouldn't be a fraction as bad as what I had to go through actually **doing** it. Gut-wrenching contractions all through the night, and then the fucking pushing stage-"

"I said I don't want to hear it!" Shaun screeched.

"Fine, I'll talk about something else, then." Desmond handed Andrew to Rebecca, got out some formula powder from the cupboard, and started to prepare it. "Tell me, what's it like workin' for the big bad Abstergo?"

"You've had jobs before, haven't you? It's really nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, aside from the exorbitant security measures on the building, the non-disclosure agreements I had to sign, the conversations I'd overhear." Shaun put on a gruff voice to mimic a random Abstergo employee. "'I've been spending too long in my Animus, and it's doing my head in.'"

Desmond gaped. "They've... their own employees are using the Animus?"

Rebecca jumped into the conversation. "Wow, Shaun, that sounds incredible! I can't wait to hear all about it at the briefing this afternoon! But I just remembered Bill wanted to meet with you as soon as you got here, so let's go!" She plopped Andrew back into Desmond's arms, then practically dragged Shaun out of the room.

Desmond watched them leave, his eyes narrowed. "First Dad was acting all weird and evasive, and now them too," he murmured. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they're keeping some secret from me, Andrew. Whatta you think?"

The response was a whimper that almost instantly morphed into a full-out cry.

"Oh shit, sorry, I forgot it's your lunchtime." Desmond picked up the bottle he'd just prepared and shook it to make sure the contents were well-mixed, then began to feed Andrew. "Well, if they're secretly planning another party, I'm fine with that. Dunno what the hell party they'd be planning, though."

He watched in boredom for a few minutes as the formula drained down, then had an epiphany. _Holy shit. I know what they're planning! September first is coming up. It'll be one year since Abstergo got me._ He began to shake with barely contained laughter. _Guess it's like my Assassin anniversary or something. Assassiversary. Fuck of a thing to throw a party over, but whatever!_

"Desmond?"

He looked up to the man who'd just appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Team meeting in approximately ninety minutes."

Desmond fought to keep the stupid smile off his face as he remembered the last "team meeting" he'd been called to, which had turned out to be a baby shower. "A real meeting this time?"

William chuckled ever so softly. "Yes, a real meeting. Mr. Hastings will be giving us a rundown of the Entertainment situation."

"Mm." Andrew finished the bottle and Desmond put him over his shoulder to gently burp him. "I'll be there with bells on."

William squinted at him. "With bells?"

"Never mind. Just an expression. By the way," Desmond waved a hand toward the high chair in the corner. "He's not old enough to use that yet. Can't hold his head up or nothing."

"Oh." William scratched his head. "Sorry about that."

"Heh, don't be sorry. It's cool you built it, we just gotta wait a while for him to, y'know, develop the physical strength to sit upright."

"Ah, of course. Well... we'll see you at the meeting, then."

A slight burp bubbled from Andrew's little throat and Desmond said, "Right. Can't wait to find out the latest dastardly plans we have to foil."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter, sorry. I'll make up for it by posting a promised illustration sometime this week.
> 
> For Shaun's "Baaah!", please imagine it as a more British version of [the thing Hank Hill does](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGcdYB8vF_c).


	9. The Big Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm quite aware I'm fudging the modern day Black Flag timeline a bit, but hey, you see that "Canon Divergent" tag up there?
> 
> chapter last edited Feb 21 2015

A pair of squinting eyes shielded by glass regarded the infant with disdain. "Are you planning to bring that to every meeting?"

"Yes, Shaun, I'm planning to bring **him** to every meeting," Desmond replied coolly. "I can be a dad and an Assassin at the same time."

Shaun sighed resignedly. "Fine. Just make sure he doesn't start crying and whatnot."

"He'll be good," Desmond asserted, patting the tiny baby's back. "He likes being in this carrier, he's always nice and calm when daddy's carrying him, aren't you, kiddo? Aren't you?" He rubbed a finger over Andrew's head and down one chubby cheek. "So, come on Shaun, what's the sitch? I see you got a ugly-ass mug shot of me up on the projector screen for some reason."

"Yes, well, apparently some good Samaritan put up these missing person flyers around your neighborhood after you were kidnapped."

"Oh, that's nice. Fat lot of good it did me though... Hey, wait a goddamn minute!" Desmond's forehead wrinkled and he leant forward to get a better look at the projected image. "Hundred and ninety-five pounds?! That's horseshit! I never weighed anywhere close to that! Who the fuck made this poster? Let's go back to Brooklyn so I can personally kick their ass!"

"Dude, chill out," Spencer said, putting a hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"I bet it was Rafael, he's always pulling stupid shit like this, I bet when I ask him he'll be all like 'oh, sorry mang, I meant to put **two** -ninety-five!' That asshole!"

"Dude, you're upsetting the baby!"

Desmond immediately ceased his tirade and snapped his gaze to Andrew. Sure enough, he looked about to cry. "Oh, geez, don't cry, little guy, I'm sorry, it's just, see that poster up there? Someone told a lie about me, and I don't like that."

" **Anyway**!" Shaun said, louder than necessary. "This is just something we were looking at to kill time before you showed up to the meeting. Let's move on to the main attraction, shall we?" He clicked a remote several times, advancing through a series of images.

Desmond's eyes bugged out upon seeing [photos of a blindfolded man being forced into a car.](http://images.wikia.com/assassinscreed/images/archive/7/77/20121001030733!ACi-TransferToRome.jpg) "Woah, stop, wait!" he yelped. "That's me being kidnapped!"

"Indeed it is." Shaun sounded bored.

"Who was taking these pictures and didn't bother to rescue me?!"

"We don't know, Desmond, it doesn't matter."

"How do you not **know**? Where did you even get these pictures anyway?"

"Oh, you know, a little thing I did called 'going on an undercover mission to Abstergo Entertainment'?!"

Desmond blinked in confusion. "Templars took photos of **themselves** kidnapping me? Why would they do that?"

"They're not technically 'photos', they're stills from a surveillance camera, but like I said, it doesn't matter, those files are just filler before the main attraction. Which is this video." Shaun clicked again and the dimly lit photo of Desmond was replaced by a brilliant white background with four lines of text and an image of the most famous Assassin that ever lived.

          Abstergo  
          26 December 2012

          Sample 17 Market Analyses #1  
          Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad

An unfamiliar man began speaking. "Our researchers looked into the life of Altair Ibn Lahad, hoping to find a biography that might serve as a positive role model for Abstergo's global outreach programs...."

"Oh shit guys," Desmond blurted, talking over the narration, "did you **hear** how that guy said his **name**?" He cackled for several seconds. "Oh god. 'Awl Tare Iben Lahad'," he imitated the Abstergo employee in an exaggerated Southern drawl while wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh man, I gotta hear that again, rewind it, Shaun, rewind it!"

The other Assassins looked at him sternly as the video played on. "This is no laughing matter, Desmond," William intoned.

"But... Awl **Tare**!" He could barely talk for giggling. "Andrew, did you hear that?" Indeed, the baby had a wide toothless grin.

"You bloody idiot, do you understand what this video **means**?"

He managed to compose himself long enough to reply. "Looks like they're gonna make their next game _The Adventures of Altaïr_. Or rather, _The Adventures of Abbas_ , since they have a hate-on for Altaïr."

"You're not the least bit concerned where they're getting the source material from?

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Uh, derrr, from when they kidnapped me and made me relive his shit!"

There was a vicious click from Shaun's remote, and the screen loaded another video.

Desmond idly played with Andrew's hands as he listened and tried not to interrupt this time. "Our initial reports gave us hope that Enzio Auditory would serve us as an ideal candidate for future Abstergo projects. His charisma, sexual magnetism and wry humor gave him all the qualities of a leading man. However, his corruption by the Assassin Order robbed him of these qualities..."

Desmond noticed the guy called his Brotherhood an "Order". He then became distracted with wondering if the Templars called their thing a "Brotherhood". _Guess it would make sense, seeing as how they're convinced they're the good guys. Do they have some twisted version of the Creed too? What do they do for initiation? I'm sure it's not Leaps of Faith... Wait, I know what they do, it's that ring ceremony Haytham did with Charles Lee. Like they were getting gay married or something. Kinda ironic, since I'm pretty sure the Templars are virulently against gay marriage._

"...We have therefore come to the conclusion that Enzio Auditory da Farenze would be a risky character to develop."

"Did you notice he called him **Enzio**?" Desmond said when the video had finished. "This guy can't say **anybody's** name right, can he? It's not that hard, dude: Eh-tsi-o. Al-tie-ear. It's not like Ratonhnha-"

"You're rather missing the point of this presentation, Desmond," Shaun interrupted wearily.

"So Lucy leaked some Animus sessions to Vidic, big deal." He waved a dismissive hand. "Ezio's so last year, why do we care about this **now**?"

"It's not Lucy," William said in a low rumble. "They're getting this data straight from the source. Straight from your DNA."

Desmond blinked. "Get outta town. That's not possible. My DNA's here with **me** , derr! They can't see my ancestors if I'm not in their Anim..." He trailed off and blinked again, then rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Animus. Shit. That's it, isn't it?" he groaned. "The fucking Animus upgrade I've been hearing about, the thing Becca's been working on. Fucking hell...."

He could still recall the panic he'd felt as half a dozen Abstergo "nurses" had wrestled him down on a cold steel examining table so the "doctor" could find a vein to jab a syringe into. "The bastards musta saved my blood from whatever fucked-up medical tests they did." Desmond pulled his hand away from his face and stared at the calloused fingers, imagining the millions upon millions of cells coursing through the vessels within, each holding a microscopically encoded record of his genetic history.

"They saved my blood... and now that's all they need," he said shakily. "That's the reason there's no Subject Eighteen. 'Cause they're not done with Seventeen yet." It was a good thing Andrew was securely held by the carrier, for Desmond's arms were weak as jelly. But not just his arms. His whole body felt jittery and limp, clammy and cold.

"That's correct," William said, and gestured to Shaun, who clicked past a few more files to display a portrait of a grizzly man with a three-day blonde stubble, his upper face mostly shadowed by a dirty-white hood, save for a scarred nose and deadly blue eyes peering out from the darkness.

"Wh- who's this?" Desmond asked, trying to keep his voice controlled.

"The Templars' latest historical target. Edward Kenway. Haytham's father," Shaun said bluntly. "They've got their people at Entertainment syncing through his life, via the 'generous donation' of genetic memories you provided."

"Donation." Desmond barked out a nervous laugh. "Is that what they're calling it? Fuck, that's rich."

Shaun nodded. "Yes, they do love their deceitful cover stories, don't they. To hear them tell it, you donated your body to medical science or somesuch. And then medical science decided to go and make a video game from your ancestry."

"Video game... from my ancestry." Desmond, oddly enough, felt even more exploited by this than by the kidnapping.

"That's what Entertainment thinks they're working on, a pirate-themed videogame," Rebecca said. "With accompanying movie tie-in." She grabbed the remote from Shaun and flicked expertly through the slideshow to another video.

A husky-voiced man began narrating in an incredibly cliché movie-trailer tone. "In a world... where pirates rule the waves... these men will discover... that nothing is sacred... and everyone is committed... to **rum**!"

Shaun wrested the remote back from Rebecca and muted the video.

Watching Edward silently wreak his havoc on the high seas, Desmond felt like he was in some weird dream. The situation was made all the more surreal when Andrew chose that moment to fart.

Shaun pinched his nose and waved a hand through the air. "Uck, Desmond, what in the world are you feeding him?"

"Just formula, what the fuck else?"

Shaun gagged. "Cripes, let's get through this meeting real quick-like, before he lets loose any more of those, shall we?"

Desmond chuckled. "Dude, you should smell his dirty diapers, his farts are nothing compared to that!"

"It's true, his diapers are really super rank," confirmed Spencer.

"Ah-hem!" William coughed loudly. "Can we stick to the subject at hand, please?"

"Right!" Shaun turned back to face the projector screen, flipping through more videos and images. "Anyway! Long story short, the game's not their ultimate goal."

"Although they do hope to turn a tidy profit on it," Rebecca said.

"Yes, well, what they're really looking for is this: the Observatory." Shaun stopped the slideshow on a screen displaying a scrap of parchment. On it were geometric designs Desmond recognized as the same patterns he'd seen in the Grand Temple and in the vault under that Italian church. But there was also the unfamiliar outline of some sort of mechanism composed of weird concentric circles.

"Yet another First Civ thingy my ancestor got mixed up with? What does this one do?"

"See that?" Shaun had a laser pointer now, and he circled a red dot around something in the middle of the mechanism. "That there is a Crystal Skull."

"Seriously?" Desmond asked. "Like in Indiana Jones? That thing's real?"

"Yeah, it's real," Spencer answered darkly. "As in, we'll be in real trouble if the Templars get their mitts on it. It's a spying machine, and they can use it with your DNA," here he pointed at Desmond to make it clear that he wasn't using "you" in the generic sense, "to see where you are and what you're doing."

"Shit." Desmond seemed to suddenly realize something, and he cast his gaze around the table at the other Assassins. "You guys all knew this already. This is the big secret you been keeping from me."

William exhaled. "Yes, Desmond. We kept this from you until now."

"God dammit. And here I thought you were planning another big stupid party." Desmond shot a death glare at his father. "Why wouldn't you tell me something like this?!"

"We wanted to wait until we were sure we had a full grasp of the situation," William said, impossibly calm. "To be sure this wasn't a ruse. And... we didn't want to place you under undue stress."

"Oh, I see." Desmond curled an arm stiffly around Andrew. "Because I had a baby, you didn't think I could handle this Assassin stuff anymore? Did you treat Mom like this too, after I was born?"

"That is a completely different situa-"

"Answer the question, Dad!" he demanded. "Did you treat her like a delicate little flower who might just faint if she heard that Templars were doing Templar-y things like they always do?"

Shaun slammed his hands on the table. "Can you two have your row later please?! **After** the meeting?!"

All the noise got to be too much for Andrew and he started to wail.

"Bloody hell," Shaun sighed. "Desmond, please shut him up so I can get through the rest of my presentation."

Desmond scowled down at the baby. As if the crying wasn't bad enough, his nose was running too. "Ugh. I'll be right back." He stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Stupid Juno fucking over my life," he grumbled, rummaging through a supply cabinet to find a pack of tissues. "Maybe that's why she knocked me up, so I can't be an Assassin anymore, bitch. I'll show her, I'll be even more of a badass. I'll find her and I'll kick her non-corporeal ass." He wiped the snotty mess from Andrew's nose. "All right, buster, now what do I gotta do to make you stop crying?"

"Try singing that song again." Desmond spun around to see Rebecca. "That Italian one. Stellalina or whatever."

"Stella, stellina? You heard me singing that?"

"Yeah. It was totes adorb."

Desmond glowered at her. "So not only are you guys keeping secrets from me, you're eavesdropping on me too."

Rebecca cupped a hand to her ear. "What?" It seemed she couldn't hear him over Andrew's cries.

Desmond's whole body was stiff with anger. _Fuck, that stupid lullaby's in my head again now,_ _goddamn Bleeding Effect, why did I even remember that song in the first place, I haven't synced Ezio in forever and I sure as hell never synced any memories of his parents singing him to sleep, goddammit Andrew shut up!_

Rebecca grabbed another tissue and dabbed at Andrew's tears. "C'mon, li'l guy. Stellina, stellina, la noche babba tina, la fimama travana-"

Desmond cut her off. "Shit, Becca, that is **so** not how it goes! That's not even Italian, that's just gibberish!"

"You sing it then!"

He pouted for a few more seconds, then began to grumble the words through gritted teeth. "Stella, stellina. La notte si avvicina. La fiamma traballa. La mucca nella stalla." Unconsciously, he'd started to pat Andrew's back rhythmically. "La mucca e il vitello. La pecora e l'agnello." Though he wasn't trying to "sing" it, the melody behind the syllables was emerging nevertheless.

Rebecca suppressed a grin as she watched Desmond's rage slowly diffuse. Andrew's cries were fading away as well.

"La chioccia con il pulcino. Ognuno ha il suo bambino. Ognuno ha la sua mamma." He made a soft involuntary sniffling sound, then continued. "Salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino. E tutti fanno la nanna."

The boy was now quiet, gazing reverently up at him. "Huh. That easy, huh?" He wiped the few remaining tears from Andrew's cheeks. "Sorry. I... sorry."

"By the way..." Rebecca said, beckoning him to follow her back to the meeting. "Why did you think we were planning a party?"

"Well... September first's coming up," he said lamely.

"September first. So?"

Desmond shook his head and smiled at Andrew. "Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I thought you were gonna celebrate my, uh, Assassiversary."

"Assassiversary. Huh." She opened the meeting room door and followed Desmond in.

"Are we ready to continue?" Shaun asked in his characteristic acid tone. "Can we finish up without either of you throwing another strop?"

"Whatever." Desmond slumped back into his chair, then turned to address his father. "So this is what you meant, huh? When you said I'll never hafta go in the Animus again?"

William made a small movement as if to pat Desmond's shoulder, but then put his hand back on the table instead. "That's correct. The upgrades we're performing on our Animus will allow anyone to relive your genetic memories."

"So you guys can get Bleeding Effects instead of me. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"We'll go in shifts, so none of us has too much exposure," William said. "Obviously."

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah, and I'm gonna import the sync data from Julia's sessions-"

" **Whose** sessions?"

"Oh, sorry," Rebecca said. "Julia's the Abstergo employee that's been syncing Edward, the one who's been hacking their servers to bring us this intel."

"Mm. You sure we can trust her? Remember the last time we trusted an Abstergo employee?" Desmond said pointedly.

"That's a risk we'll have to take, Desmond!" Shaun said. "We cannot let the Templars get to that skull! And besides, this is not the same situation as with Lucy." He ticked off points on his fingers. "A: This Julia isn't a Templar, she only works for their subsidiary. B: She doesn't know where we are, so she can't rat us out. And C: did I mention we **can't let the Templars get that skull?** "

"Okay, geez, you don't have to yell. Calm down or you'll freak out my kid again."

"Ahem." Rebecca cleared her throat. "I was saying: I'll import Julia's sync data, so we'll be continuing from the same point in history where Abstergo's already gotten to, instead of starting from scratch. If we all go in shifts like Bill said, we should have no trouble finding out where the Observatory is before they do."

"And then what?" asked Spencer. "We go burn it down? It's First Civ, I don't think it'll be that easy to destroy. They're kinda known for their stuff being pretty durable. And I've heard some nasty tales about that place's built-in security. As in, 'people get killed just going in' nasty."

"We can at least remove the skull, if nothing else," Shaun said. "At any rate, we've got to locate the place first, so let's focus on that part for now, right?" He clicked again to display what looked like a travel itinerary. "In other news, Olivier Garneau, the head honcho at Entertainment, is scheduled to attend a, ahem, 'shareholder's meeting'- read 'Templar pow-wow'- in Chicago early September." He looked to William.

"Mm. That den is a little busy with local affairs these days, but I'll send a message advising them to keep an eye on Mr. Garneau."

"I was rather hoping for 'assassinate', not 'keep an eye on', but then again, it's not up to me, because I'm not the Mentor, am I?" Shaun asked rhetorically. "Well, that about wraps things up here, I think. Meeting adjourned."

The group began to disperse. Desmond got up and stood behind Shaun as he shut down the projector system. "You gonna stay here a while, or head straight back to Montreal?"

"I need to check up on my email and do a few other things around here, but I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Oh. Thanks for the book, by the way."

"Book? What book?"

" _Complete Works of Lewis Carroll_ , you know, the one you gave me while I was pregnant."

"Oh, right, of course," Shaun said, conspicuously not making eye contact.

"He seems to really like it."

"Er. I'm glad."

Desmond smirked. "And by 'he' I mean the kid I was pregnant with."

Shaun shuddered.

"See, Andrew, Shaun's not so bad, once you know how to push his buttons. Speaking of pushing, man, that was a hell of an experience."

Shaun flipped him off, but in a good-natured way, if that makes any sense, and then hastily left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "millions upon millions of cells coursing through the vessels within, each holding a microscopically encoded record of his genetic history." - Science note: This isn't completely accurate. Platelets and red blood cells don't contain DNA, since they don't have a nucleus. It'd be only the white blood cells the Templars could use to get at his genetic memories. Desmond doesn't know that, though.
> 
> Check my [twitters](https://twitter.com/search?q=%40jjulia%20%23fanfic) for fanfic progress updates if you like.


	10. Papino Protettivo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the shiny new illustration on Chapter 5! More coming later!  
> Further illustration suggestions always welcome :-)

August 25, 2013

Rebecca was so hard at work with the Animus code that she didn't even notice Desmond come in until he startled her by tapping her on the shoulder.

"Gah!" She jerked in surprise, hitting some keys by accident, then growled in frustration and backspaced the error away. "You should learn to turn off your stealth sometimes, Des."

"Hey, I wasn't trying to sneak up on you, honest."

She turned her chair around to face him, and also Andrew, whom he was carrying in his arms. "You need something?"

"I just wanted to see how that Animus stuff is coming along."

"You know, it's really not as tough as I'd thought it'd be," Rebecca said, turning back to the keyboard quickly to save her work. "Reliving someone else's ancestors is a major paradigm shift, but the coding changes actually aren't too radical. Already commented out the functions that check user DNA against the source file, and now I'm finishing up with adjustments to the sync algorithms and stimulus event handlers."

"Uh-huh," Desmond said, putting up a pretense that he'd understood her technical jargon.

"Then I'm gonna run a final debug. Should have it up and running by tomorrow morning." She turned to face Desmond again. "Who d'ya think should be the first guinea pig on this new setup?"

He thought for a brief moment before answering. "Dad, I guess. He's the only other one of us who's ever even been in an Animus before. I mean, it was a hell of a shock to the system the first time I used the thing. So, he'll at least be kinda used to it? Maybe?"

"Hmm. Good idea," Rebecca said, "but that wouldn't be a proper test of allogenetic syncing."

"Of what now?" Oops, there went the pretense of understanding.

"Allogenetic syncing," she repeated. "Reliving memories from someone else's genes. The Kenways are on Bill's side of your family tree, so him being able to relive those memories wouldn't tell me anything about whether this new functionality works."

"Oh. Right, derr." Desmond scuffed his shoe idly along one of the floor tiles. "Well, I dunno, then. I would say **you** should go in, 'cause you know how everything works, but you probly wanna be the one monitoring whoever it is, so. Eh."

Rebecca shrugged. "We'll just go in alphabetical order then. That makes Colin first."

Just then, Andrew sneezed, the involuntary motion jerking his whole head forward and back.

"Aw, how cuuuute!" Rebecca squealed. She got up from her chair to observe the cuteness more closely. "Where's his carrier?"

"In his room- fff- I mean in **our** room. I just..." Desmond broke eye contact with her, looking down at his little boy. "I dunno, I like to actually hold him sometimes. The carrier's nice and all, for when I need to use my hands, but, y'know, actually holding him... It's a whole 'nother feeling. It's like we're more connected this way, y'know?" Then he smirked. "Geez. I'm getting all sentimental and crap. Promise me something, Becca?"

"What?"

"If you hear me using baby talk, slap me upside the head, all right?"

"Whaaat?"

"You heard me. All the hugging and holding stuff is one thing, but baby talk, y'know, 'ohh you're such a wuvey widdle babykins, wet's changey your diapey', that sort of nonsense...." He trailed off and shook his head. "Fucking stupid."

Rebecca shrugged. "Whatever you say, Dadmond."

Before he could protest the nickname, Andrew sneezed again, and Desmond's mood shifted to concern. "Aw, geez. All day he's been doing that. Sneezing at random times. I better take him to Stacey, get this checked out."

 

* * *

"I think his nostrils were just a bit clogged," Stacey said. "Nothing to worry about."

Desmond furrowed his brow at this. "You **think**."

Stacey passed Andrew back to him. "Well, it might be a very mild cold. He doesn't have any other symptoms, though, so I doubt it."

"Well... You're sure it's not asthma or something chronic like that?" Desmond thought of little sickly Petrucchio Auditore.

"I don't think so?" Stacey said, sounding way too unsure for Desmond's comfort. "At his age, diagnosing something like that would be hard."

He sighed and looked down at Andrew. "Well, if he's asthmatic or whatever, I guess there's nothing I can do about it, huh? Serves me right, I probly caused it."

"Caused it? How would you have caused it?"

Desmond's mouth pulled tight into an almost-frown. "You know. From, like, something I did before he was born. Probly the drinking."

"You had one beer, okay? I don't think one beer-"

"It wasn't just one beer!" he cut in. "We went to some bar in São Paulo, and I had a couple of those lime green deals, those caiper-whatevers."

"Oh. Well, that was before you knew you were pregnant."

"No duh, but I still was."

"Relax, Desmond," she said with a smile. "Andrew seems perfectly healthy, so there's no point in beating yourself up about what you drank before he was born."

Desmond was silent a moment, gently bobbing his arms up and down, eliciting burbles of amusement from Andrew. "Well... maybe we'll be lucky and the booze won't have affected him.... Or maybe we won't be lucky and he'll turn out autistic or something."

She shrugged. "It's possible, but I don't think prenatal alcohol exposure causes autism. I think it's genetic."

"Argh. Of course it is. Everything's about genes, isn't it. Genes, genes, genes, the cause of every problem in my life. Well, thanks for your time. See you at his one-month checkup. " Desmond got up and started to leave.

"I'm glad you decided to love him, Desmond."

He paused in the doorway. "I didn't really decide that, Stacey. Sure, I decided to keep him and take care of him... But the 'love' part..." He turned around, revealing a smile budding across his face. "That just happened spontaneously."

 

* * *

August 26, 2013

The first trial of the allogenetic syncing function drew an anxious audience that nearly filled the Animus workroom. This would be the first time Desmond saw the Animus in action from this side of things. He eyed Rebecca's multi-monitor setup with newfound fascination. One screen displayed a jumble of code alongside a DNA timeline, which looked different than any of the ones he'd navigated, but was still recognizable as such. A second screen was blank save for the words "NO MEMORY IN PROGRESS", and a third screen had a program running to monitor Colin's vital signs.

"Sure hope this works," Spencer said. "Don't want to have to go break into Abstergo again."

Desmond looked at him quizzically. "Huh? Why would we hafta do that?"

Rebecca answered for him. "We thought we'd have to steal those blood samples, because your DNA might not have Edward's memories anymore since Juno fucked around with it, but actually I was able to sidestep that whole issue." She tapped a finger on the timeline screen to point out the words "MilesDesmond.ddna" near the top. "I pulled the backup file from when you were reliving Ezio, which is built off your pre-pregnant DNA, so we're using that as the source."

"Nifty." Desmond shifted in his seat and adjusted Andrew in his arms. "What's the extra D for?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I didn't invent the extension. You'd have to ask Vidic."

"But he's dead now," Colin said cheerily from the Animus chair. "So I guess we'll never know the secret of the extra D."

"Enough talk," William said. "Every minute we waste is another minute Abstergo's getting ahead of us."

"Let's get to it, then," Rebecca said. "Right, Col, keep your head still, I'll make sure the system has a good connection."

Colin gulped quietly and stared at the ceiling. Desmond watched a bead of sweat run down his face. Then his eyes went unfocused and an image loaded on the previously-blank monitor.

"Everything seems to be in order. How d'ya feel?" Rebecca asked.

Onscreen, Colin's avatar looked around the white room, then down at his hands. Meanwhile, in the real world, his body remained motionless, except his mouth, which said, "This is bizarre."

"You get used to it," Desmond said, then chuckled when Colin's avatar looked up into the "sky" in a vain attempt to locate the speaker. "You get used to hearing voices outta nowhere too."

"Just so long as you don't start hearing voices after you exit the thing," Spencer said.

"He shouldn't," said William. "None of us should, as long as we stick to the three-hour limit. And need I remind you, that's a **firm** limit. No exceptions, do you hear me, Miss Crane?"

"Not gonna happen, I promise," Rebecca said, crossing her fingers over her heart. "Okay, let's start you off with a training sequence so you can get your bearings before we jump into Edward."

The white void onscreen was replaced by silvery walls. Desmond recognized this as the same thing he'd gone through before the first memory of Haytham.

"Make your way to the marker... okay, now try climbing these objects... whoops, no prob, Col, just try it again," she said with a smile when he lost his grip and fell.

"C'mon, dude, you know how to climb!" Desmond mock-taunted him.

"I know, but in here it's... it's not the same... it's bizarre!"

Colin eventually got past the climbing portion and the freerunning portion. "Next up, we got some enemies to assassinate," said Rebecca as two foppish-looking guards in tricorn hats materialized a short distance away from him.

Colin gulped again. "Oh boy."

"It's just like in real life, Col," Desmond said.

"I've never done it in real life!"

Desmond blinked. "Well... there's a first time for everything, isn't there, Andrew?"

Spencer gave Desmond an odd look. "Why you asking him?"

"'Cause talking to your baby helps him learn to talk faster," Desmond said, as if it should have been obvious.

William snapped his fingers impatiently. "Let's focus, please. Mr. McCorquodale, you've got a Hidden Blade in there, correct?"

Colin's avatar looked down at his wrist. "Oh. So I do. Was that there before?"

"Who cares, you've got it now," Desmond said. "Just use those sneaky sneaking skills of yours and stab those dudes before they even know you're there."

Colin flexed his wrist to test the mechanism, seemingly surprised when it worked and the blade actually shot out. "Well, here I go." Without retracting the blade, he slowly sidled up to one of the virtual guards, held his breath, and thrust his arm out, slicing through the dirty yellow uniform and staining it with red.

"Way to go, Col!" hooted Rebecca.

Both Colin's avatar and his actual body smiled ecstatically as the guard fell limply to the floor, then dematerialized.

Andrew made a small gurgling sound and a brief thought flitted through Desmond's mind about whether it was appropriate for a baby to witness people being killed, even virtually. "I, uh... I'm gonna go put Andrew down for a nap."

"Don't go!" shouted Colin. "I might need more of your Animus Expert advice!"

"You'll be fine," Desmond assured him. "But here's one last tip: Your yelling just alerted that other guard."

Colin spun around and put up his arm just in time to deflect a sword with the bracer of his Hidden Blade. "Fuck! Help!"

"He's left his gut exposed, get 'im there!" Spencer said, jabbing a finger on the screen.

"Hands off the hardware!" Rebecca yanked Spencer's arm away as Colin socked the guard in the stomach. The punch was weak, but in this practice program, the foes were weak too, and he staggered backward hyperbolically, affording Colin the opportunity to land another fatal blow with his Hidden Blade.

Desmond covered Andrew's innocent blue eyes and pulled himself away from the Animus room with a touch of regret. "C'mon kiddo, let's go do something more age-appropriate," he said quietly. "How about more _Alice in Wonderland_ , huh? What weird hijinks is she gonna get up to next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guards Colin fights are the leftmost ones in [this image](http://oyster.ignimgs.com/mediawiki/apis.ign.com/assassins-creed-4/d/df/45511.jpg).
> 
> [I got my first "OMG MPREG IS IMPOSSIBLE" comment on FFnet the other day. It made me laugh.](http://i.imgur.com/O89wdZi.png)
> 
> Working title for this chapter was "Worries".


	11. Enigma

     'If everybody minded their own business,' the Duchess said in a hoarse growl, 'the world would go round a deal faster than it does.'

     'Which would _not_ be an advantage,' said Alice, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. 'Just think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—'

     'Talking of axes,' said the Duchess, 'chop off her head!'

"Woah," Desmond said with a start. "I forgot this story gets a little violent at times." He chewed his tongue for a moment, contemplating. "Well, I guess reading you acts of literary violence is a bit more palatable than having you see acts of visual violence. An' I'll give you a little spoiler here, kiddo." He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. "Alice **doesn't** get her head chopped off."

"Are you two all right?" came William's voice softly from the bedroom door.

Desmond turned to face him. "Yeah, we're good. He's asleep. Or nearly asleep. I mean, it's a little hard to tell, but either way, he's all calm and quiet."

"You left rather abruptly."

"Well sorry, but I thought babies shouldn't see people getting killed," Desmond said, a little snidely. "Might give him nightmares or something."

"Ah, all right." William rubbed his neck stiffly.

Desmond marked where he'd stopped in the book and then set it back on the shelf. "Did the new code work? Was Colin able to get into my ancestor's memories?"

"Miss Crane said the, ah, neural refresh rate is a little slower than usual, but other than that, yes, it's working properly."

Desmond cracked a slight smile. "You don't know what the neural refresh rate even is, do you?"

"Not really, nor do I need to," was the brusque reply.

"It's the rate of how fast the system is tracking the user's brain activity. A faster NR rate makes the memory seem more real," Desmond explained.

"Hm," William said, sounding impressed. "I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about the technical aspects of the Animus."

"I know some of the basics, at least. Rebecca was teaching me, remember? Earlier this year, before... y'know." Desmond's posture sagged a little. "Before I got sidetracked with poking around Andrew's DNA to find out his other dad." He turned his head and looked back at the sleeping child. "An' after that, I was too busy getting all prepared for..." he paused heavily before saying the momentous word, "fatherhood."

William took his shoulder gently. "Let's talk in the hall, so we don't wake him."

Desmond nodded and they left the room. "I dunno why I was so obsessed with finding out whose he is. Now that I know... It's like..." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, at a loss for words.

William went ahead and stated the obvious. "You're not thrilled about it being Kaczmarek."

Desmond pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, it's not like I'm **mad** that it turned out to be Clay, it's just... I never expected it. I always was thinking it was gonna be Lucy, Becca, or Shaun, 'cause they were actually there. Honestly, I was hoping for one of the girls. It'd be, I dunno... less gay that way." He chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, how's that for irony? The man with a vagina, worried about things being gay."

William had no ready response to this, other than to tap his fingers uneasily against his pant leg.

Desmond sighed. "But really, I think I'm actually okay with Clay being his dad. As long as that's all he is." He paused a few beats. "I mean, there are worse alternatives. Until that test Stacey did proved he was human, I seriously thought I had Juno's baby inside'a me. And that, I would have been **really** mad about."

"We're all glad it didn't turn out that way, Desmond."

"Yeah." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, I got some more diapers outside soaking in the wash. You promised you'd help me wash 'em. Come on."

 

* * *

 

"Where do you think she is right now?"

William looked up from the diaper he was fretting across the scrub board, giving Desmond a perplexed look.

"Juno, I mean," he clarified. "You heard any chatter on where she might be hiding out?"

William shook his head. "We haven't a clue. Not a peep from her- or any other Precursors, for that matter- since last year. Mr. Vermaak and I visited the Grand Temple in July and she didn't seem to be there anymore." He held out a sopping wet diaper.

Desmond took it and wrung it out, then hung it on the line. "Hm. My saving the planet was supposed to let her loose into the world, and she sounded like she was planning to fuck humanity's shit over the second she got out... But then again, saving the planet was supposed to kill me, too."

William frowned at the icky wash water and scrubbed harder on a particularly set-in stain.

"And that obviously didn't happen either. It just burned the shit outta my skin." Desmond held up his right arm to illustrate the point. "One scarred up arm. Billions of lives saved. And, apparently, zero ancient evils unleashed. It feels... not right, y'know? I'm kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Mm. Perhaps Andrew has something to do with it," William said. "He could be another wrinkle in the prophecy."

Desmond pulled another wet diaper from the tub and hung it up. "Well, maybe. I hope not. But then again... That encoded file from Clay..."

"Hm?"

"He said a lot of bizarre things in there. Things that only made sense in hindsight. Like, 'She is not who you think she is'. Turns out that meant Lucy was a Templar. And 'Find me in the darkness' was about him planning to help me outta my coma."

"Hm."

"Another thing he said was, 'The sun. Your son.' So... the sun in the sky, that almost killed the planet," Desmond pointed upwards unnecessarily, "and my son," here he pointed to his abdomen, "the kid I was days away from being knocked up with."

"You think there's some connection."

"That's what it sounds like to me. But fuck if I know the details of it. I woulda liked to ask him what all that shit meant, but the stupid Animus deleted him before I had the chance." Desmond shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter now. There's not gonna be another solar flare like that for another majillion years, right?"

"It was no mere 'solar flare', Desmond," William said. "Solar flares happen on a daily basis with no ill effects to the planet. The event was something of far greater magnitude than-"

"Whatever!" Desmond spat. "What was it then?"

"...I'm not sure there's actually a defined term."

"Well then I'm gonna say 'solar flare', 'cause that's hella lot easier than saying 'big explodey space thing that could kill 98% of the human race.'"

There was silence for a long while after that, save for the soft splashing of water in the washtub and the intermittent sounds of ambient nature.

"Tell me something, Desmond... Is it true that you forget about the labor pain when you, ah, meet your child?"

"Ba-ha-hahaa!" Desmond cackled, not even caring that his hand was still wet as he slapped his knee in amusement. "Where the hell'd you get that idea?"

"A doctor at the School. She's delivered children, and she's had children of her own, so I went to her for a little advice while I was there."

"Well, either she's lying through her teeth, or I'm an exception to the rule, because I **definitely** remember that shit."


	12. Dangerously Sentimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Desmond's password is Ezio's birth year, and another Simpsons reference creeps in

August 28, 2013

 

"Good morning Desmond! Good morning Andrew!"

Desmond winced at Rebecca's sing-song greeting, an artificially high-pitched chirp that grated on his ears. "Can you just talk normal, please? I kinda got a headache."

She frowned. "Oooh, poor widdle head. Did you not sleep good or something?"

"Of course I didn't sleep good, didn't you hear all this guy's stupid crying?" He gestured to Andrew in the carrier, who was still making intermittent whiny squeals.

"Hey, don't call your kid stupid."

"I called his **crying** stupid, not him," Desmond retorted, grabbing a can of powder and a bottle from the cupboard as the baby's cries increased in volume. "Shut up, okay, I know you're hungry, look, I'm making your breakfast now!" He hastily mixed up a batch of formula, spilling a little on the counter by accident, then thrust the bottle in Andrew's mouth, but he just spat out the nipple and kept crying.

Desmond sighed. "Shit, sorry, I forgot you don't like breakfast cold." He set about heating the bottle in a saucepan of water on the stove.

"Microwave would be faster," Rebecca suggested.

"Microwave isn't baby-safe," Desmond answered instantly, rubbing Andrew's back in an attempt to soothe him. "It'd get too hot and burn up his mouth. Plus the bottle would melt or leak or degrade or some shit."

"Oh. Huh."

"Parenting isn't easy, there's all sorts of little things like that you gotta know," Desmond continued, pouring himself a bowl of cereal with his free hand. "Like, you're not supposed to let him sleep with a blanket until he's one, 'cause he could suffocate. And you gotta be careful of overfeeding him, 'cause his stomach's super tiny. But underfeeding is a danger, too, 'cause his metabolism's super fast at this age. Parenting isn't easy at all," he reiterated. "It's a miracle humanity ever survived this long."

"Well, even though it's not easy, you're doing an awesome job at it," Rebecca said with a smile.

Desmond shrugged. "Thanks, I guess. I'm really just doing what the book says, honestly."

"So, does the book say when he's gonna start talking?" she asked, an eager glint in her eyes.

"Heh, not for a long time. Like around one year or so, probably."

"Aw."

The conversation trailed off, leaving the kitchen silent except for Andrew's sad sounds, the slight bubbling of stovetop water, and the clinking of plates and silverware as the adults ate. After a few minutes, Desmond removed the bottle from the pan and tested the temperature of a drop on his wrist. Satisfied that it was neither too hot nor too cold, he removed his son from the carrier and began to feed him. Andrew accepted the bottle this time, greedily sucking down the contents.

"What's going on with my ancestor? Anywhere close to finding out where that crystal skull is?"

"Doesn't seem like it," answered Rebecca, standing up to clear away her dishes. "Edward's on a quest to find the Observatory and profit from it somehow, but he keeps getting sidetracked with pirate shenanigans. Last memory we synced was him assassinating this French Templar, Julien du Casse." She chuckled slightly. "Although I dunno if you can really call it 'assassinating', since Edward's not an Assassin yet. He just killed the guy to steal his ship and save his own ass."

"Hold up, you say he wants to **sell** the Observatory?"

"Yeah. Getting rich is kind of his thing. That's why he took a vacation from his wife to go pirating."

"Mmph," Desmond grunted. "Sounds like a swell dude. But you say he does eventually shape up and join the Brotherhood?"

"Yeah, well, even being an Assassin doesn't prevent you from being a dick. Case in point: Altaïr."

One of Desmond's eyes twitched. "Hey, I'm sure you've got lots of asshole ancestors, too! And Altaïr became cool later on!"

"All right, all right, sheesh."

Andrew finished the bottle and Desmond put him back in the carrier as Rebecca finished cleaning up her meal. "You need anything before I head off to set up the Animus for Spencer's sesh?"

"Well, how about you tell me when my 'sesh' is scheduled? We're all taking turns, right?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I had to really twist Bill's arm to let you take all that extra Animus time for your paternity search, but now that that's over, he's cracking down. Says he doesn't want you in it ever again."

"What the fuck, why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You've racked up well over a thousand hours in there and he's worried about your brain."

"My brain is fine!" Desmond seethed. "I haven't had a Bleeding Effect in forever! Not since your crazy Poland update, and that doesn't count!"

"Doesn't count?" Rebecca smirked. "When did we decide that?"

"It's obvious that one doesn't count! 'Cause it was **your fault**!" Seemingly sensitive to his father's upset mood, Andrew started to whine again, so Desmond patted his back some more and forced his voice to calm down again. "It only happened 'cause you screwed up the code and made the memories go too fast."

Rebecca winced. "Okay, yeah, it was my fault, sorry. But even if we discount that one, it still hasn't been 'forever'. Remember you slipped into Italian during labor?"

"That shouldn't count either. I..." Desmond's mouth curled in a deep frown, trying to think of a rationale. "I... It's like Stacey said, I was stressed. I must have been remembering Ezio's birth."

"Sorry, bud, I think that one still counts." Rebecca gave him an apologetic smile. "Anyway, it's not up to me. Your dad's calling the shots."

"Worst. Dad. Ever," Desmond spat. "I told him I wanna keep being helpful, keep being an Assassin, but no! I'm not allowed on missions anymore and neither am I allowed in the Animus, even though I'm probably way better at it than any of you guys."

"Come on, you know he's just looking out for you." Rebecca patted Desmond's shoulder. "You don't wanna end up like Sixteen."

Desmond stood up and away from her touch. "He has a name."

"I thought you didn't want us to mention his name around Andrew."

Desmond facepalmed. "Fine, whatever. Okay, I don't wanna end up like him. But I still think it wouldn't hurt for me to take a turn in there along with all you guys. I mean, we're trying to find this Observatory as fast as we can, right? But each of us is only allowed three hours at a time, so the more people we have syncing Edward's life, the faster those three-hour sessions can get through it, right?"

"I suppose-" Rebecca began slowly, but Desmond cut her off.

"And I'm the 'Animus Expert' plus I'm his actual descendant so I can probably sync the guy a whole lot faster."

"Okay, I get the drift! Still, it's not up to me, man. You'll have to convince Bill." She smiled again. "And when you do, you might try not to sound so much like an Animus junkie craving another hit. 'Cause that's kinda the vibe you're giving me here."

"Heh." Desmond had to chuckle at that. "Thanks for the tip."

She looked at her watch. "Now I really gotta get a move on, Spencer's probably in the chair already waiting for me to load the memory."

"Oh hey," Desmond called, following her down the hall. "Do you have some way of printing photos off your computer?"

Rebecca turned back with a quizzical look.

"'Cause, uh, I got some from my phone I wanna put in that album."

"But it's... supposed to be a baby album?" Rebecca said, tilting her head at him.

"I know." Desmond smiled awkwardly and toyed with Andrew's hands. "He, uh. He's inside me in some of those pics. Even though I didn't know yet. Heh."

Rebecca snorted. "Oookay. Drop off your phone and tell me which files, then, and I'll see about printing 'em."

 

* * *

 

Not ten minutes later he came by the Animus room, grinning broadly, phone in hand. "Okie doke, the password's 1459 and the photos I want printed are any ones with me or Dad in 'em."

Without looking up from monitoring Spencer's session, Rebecca held out her hand to take the phone. "Why your dad?"

Desmond shrugged. "I figure I need a few pics of his grampa. I'm gonna ask Dad for pics of Mom too."

"Wow, you're going all out. Really getting into this whole album thing, huh?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I'm thinkin' of putting little notes on each picture, too. From me to Andrew, y'know? Like, there's that selfie I took while I was on the skyscraper, I'm thinkin' something like 'Here's your badass Daddy, mere minutes before his faceoff against an insane Master Templar! PS: Now I know I wasn't dizzy from the height, it was from you messing with my hormones and stuff.'"

"You don't think it'll freak him out? All the dangerous stuff you did while he was a fetus?"

"Of course not," Desmond scoffed. "Because I was awesome enough to avoid any injury, so he was fine! I mean, his whole family's Assassins, so he's gotta get used to the idea of danger, right?" His voice wobbled a bit. "Shit, I just got this mental image of him out on some mission. Shiiit."

Rebecca smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, bud, he won't be going on any missions for a long, **long** time."

"Hah. Yeah. Of course." Desmond laughed nervously and looked down at the baby, almost-asleep in his carrier, and tried, for now at least, not to imagine him as a grown Assassin, with all that that entailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Desmond's Instagram photos](http://ask-the-moderns.tumblr.com/post/87056422091)


	13. Memos

"Hey, Dad?"

"Mm?" William looked up from his computer to see his son and grandson, inseparable as always.

Desmond gave him an easygoing smile. "You busy?"

"Not particularly," the elder Assassin admitted, gesturing to the screen. "I was just perusing some memos from our people in Moscow."

Desmond was a teensy bit curious as to what sort of stuff the Russian wing of the Brotherhood was up to, especially now that they counted Edward Snowden among their ranks, but there was something else on his mind right now. "Um, I was wondering... What was I like as a baby?"

"Mm." William rubbed his knuckles across his beard as he considered the question. Finally he answered. "Unremarkable."

Desmond's face twitched. He slouched into the chair in front of William's desk. "So, you came back from whatever dumb mission you were on while I was being born, and Mom goes 'Here, Bill, meet our cute little baby boy' and you went 'Oh, he looks unremarkable'?"

William closed his eyes and grit his teeth for a long second before replying. "No. It wasn't like that." He rested the tips of his fingers on his forehead. "I only meant that, compared to everyone else's babies, you weren't especially fussy, nor especially quiet. You didn't hit any developmental milestones early or late. Your entire early childhood was uncannily average."

"Hmph." Desmond lightly bounced Andrew in his arms. "Well, this little guy's definitely very remarkable. He's one-of-a-kind. Fucking amazing. I love 'im." He laughed. "Weird, huh? Even though having him has turned my life upside down, turned my body into a freakshow, put all my Assassin-ing on hold..." He frowned for half a second, sniffed, then smiled again, albeit shakily. "But I love 'im and I think he's amazing. Just look at 'im." Desmond lifted the baby up a little higher. "His little nose and stuff, his tiny fingers and nails, his... everything. God, it's weird. I feel happy just being near 'im. Guess it's parental instinct or something."

A smile appeared on William's face now too. "It was the same with you."

"Yeah? Do tell."

"When I... " William clenched his hand on his knee. "When I got back to the Farm.... It was already late April. I knew Janet would have given birth while I was gone." His voice trembled a little on his wife's name. "I headed straight for our cabin. And there she was... and there **you** were." He looked into Desmond's eyes with a rare warmth. "We... we were very happy. Indescribably so."

Desmond smiled wider. "I bet you hadn't had any trouble with picking my name, huh? Or at least you probably had it picked way earlier than I did for Andrew. 'Cause you guys were actually trying for a kid."

"Well, for a time we considered the name 'Douglas'."

Without even thinking, Desmond stuck out his tongue and said, "Ech."

William chuckled. "But, yes, you're correct; we made our final decisions very early on. By the second month or so, we'd settled on Desmond Nicholas for a boy, or Helen Nicole for a girl."

"Helen Miles," Desmond said slowly, trying and failing to imagine himself as a girl. "Huh."

"I suppose it wasn't really our decision, though, was it?" William said with a soft sigh. "Your name was predestined."

"No," Desmond said abruptly and forcefully. "You coulda named me whatever, I'd still have the same ancestors, the same magic DNA. Minerva only told Ezio 'It's up to Desmond' 'cause they looked in the future and saw what name you'd pick."

William made a "hm" and then a slight acquiescing nod.

Desmond steered the conversation back away from Those Who Came Before. "So I was a good kid, huh? I mean, up until the whole teenage rebel runaway thing?"

"You were quite well-behaved for a while, yes. Far from perfect, of course, but far from terrible. As I said, uncannily average. ...We, ah, tried..." William was now staring dimly at his keyboard, grey eyes growing misty with remembrance. "Tried to have another child. A few years after you. But we-" He cleared his throat loudly, dislodging whatever emotions had been creeping into his voice, and when he spoke again, it was with his usual flat tone. "Well, as you already know, we didn't succeed."

"Oh. Uh." Desmond had no idea how to respond to this. "Sorry to hear that." _I wonder how much different things woulda been if I had a little brother or sister? Would I have still run away? Left them behind with the Assassins, or maybe taken them with me?_ He blinked rapidly, shoving away such fruitless thoughts. _Doesn't matter now. I don't have siblings and I never will._ This somehow made him feel incredibly sad, and he drew in a deep breath through his nose before saying, "Speaking of Mom... Do you have any pictures of her?"

"A few."

"Can I have one? For the Andrew album. I wanna put his whole family in there." The word 'family' felt bittersweet as it left his lips.

William smiled fondly. "Of course, Desmond. Of course."

 

* * *

 

"Salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino. E tutti fanno la nanna."

"Hey, man. Kiddo asleep?"

Desmond turned to the big man in the doorway. "Hey Spence. Yeah, he's out like a light. Has it been three hours already?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty interesting session." Spencer beckoned him out to the hallway so they could talk without having to whisper. "You ever heard of James Kidd?"

"Should I have?"

"He's an Assassin, and a really interesting fellow." Spencer leaned on the wall, arms crossed. "This last memory, he was explaining to Edward what Eagle Vision is."

"Oh really? A dude from hundreds of years ago figured out about First Civ DNA?"

Spencer waved his hand. "Heh, nah, man. But he did say it was possible for anyone to be able to sense 'the light of life, the residue of vitality' if they just try hard enough. You think that's true? You think anyone could get themselves Eagle Vision?"

Desmond rolled his eyes. "It's genetic, man, you either have it or you don't."

"Well, you used to not have it and now you do," Spencer pointed out.

"I've got the genes for it, though; the Bleeding Effect just activated them somehow."

"Maybe everyone has the genes. Maybe there's other ways to activate them."

"Umm." Desmond pondered this for a minute. "I'unno. Maybe? I mean, hell, if male pregnancy is possible, then who the fuck knows. But seriously, don't you think if Eagle Vision was gettable by normal people, we'd know it by now?"

Spencer gave him a troubled look. "Uh, 'normal people'? So you're, what, better than us 'normals'?"

Desmond facepalmed. "Sorry, bad choice of words."

"Sounds to me like somebody just wants to keep his special skill all to himself."

Desmond dropped his hand from his face and shot Spencer a mild glare. "Whatever, dude. You wanna try to train your eyes, then go for it. Keep in mind, though, it's not perfect. Lucy was blue. Al Mualim was blue. Tarik was red."

"Who's that last one?"

"Uh, some guy... One of Ezio's targets, but he was actually good." Desmond would have explained further, but decided that the intricacies of sixteenth-century Byzantine politics were too... well, Byzantine for him to sum up adequately.

"Whatever. How come that last bit doesn't rhyme? On that lullaby."

"Oh, uh." Desmond chuckled. "It's 'cause I changed the words. See, uh, originally it's 'Ognuno ha la sua mamma, e tutti fanno la nanna', which is, like, 'Everybody has their mommy, and everybody goes to sleep.' But, y'know, obviously he doesn't have a mommy." He fidgeted a bit, self-conscious about repeatedly saying the childish word 'mommy'.

Spencer nodded with a savvy half-smile.

"So I added a line in between, making it 'Everybody has their mommy, except Andrew who has his daddy.'"

"And then everyone goes to sleep. Cool. Hey, Rebecca's got your photos printed." Spencer shook his head. "I can't believe they let you use Instagram, or even keep using your cell phone at all, what with the security implications."

Desmond gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Hey, it's not like I was posting them to Facebook or something. I'm not a total idiot. And anyway Rebecca did some sorta mod to my phone hardware so it stopped even putting out any signals."

"Oh. Of course, yeah."

Desmond grinned. "I woulda gone insane if I couldn't get in a round of _Jetpack Joyride_ now and then between Animus sessions and all the other shit. I bet that's why Clay lost his marbles, actually; he sure didn't have any smartphone on 'im at Abstergo."

"Dude." Spencer's face turned sour. "He was a friend of mine. Don't joke about him like that."

But Desmond had already left to find Rebecca, and was too far away down the hall to hear this protestation.

 

* * *

 

["So, this will be a short one, Dad.... uh, something to remember me by if things go south... if I don't make it out of the Temple today."](http://allsoundsasscreed.tumblr.com/post/76057260992)

" **What** are you listening to?!" Desmond yell-yelped from the doorway, startling Rebecca. She didn't have a chance to respond before he continued shouting. "Motherfucker, I said 'print my photos', not 'go snooping in all my shit'!" By now he'd angrily strode over to her desk and jerked the phone from the USB cable.

The audio program stuttered to a stop, having lost access to the source file. "Hey, sorry!" Rebecca frantically tried to explain herself. "I just- It said 'Listen After December 21st' so I-"

"That's- Aaargh, **obviously** you're only supposed to listen to it if I'm **dead**! Goddammit, shoulda picked a better playlist title, but I couldn't figure out how to change it once I set it," Desmond grumbled as he swiped through the phone's menu. "With all the pregnancy shit going on, I forgot I even recorded these. Shoulda fucking deleted them right when we left the Temple."

"Hey, don't delete 'em, they're sweet!"

"Uuugh," Desmond groaned, fists clenched in rage. "That's the whole problem! They're too fucking sentimental."

"Says the guy who wants to add handwritten notes to his kid's baby album."

Desmond's face went red. "Goddammit. That's... that's not the same! Just gimme the pics you printed already." Rebecca held them up and he snatched them from her, then stomped away, muttering under his breath. Just before exiting the room, he turned back and declared, "All that stupid emotional crap I recorded, that was just the fucking preggo hormones, okay?!"

"You don't really love your parents or feel sorry for Connor or anything? All of that was the hormones talking?"

"Well, most of it! Some of it! Arrgh, leave me alone!" he yelled, at last retreating from her inquisition.


	14. This Tyro Parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syncing Edward Kenway's memories is not a game!

August 30, 2013

 

 

"M: The Master Assassin gives the novices their missions." Desmond held up the book so that Andrew could appreciate the illustration for a few seconds, then turned the page. "N: Every new Assassin starts as a novice. Heh." His smile sparkled at the baby boy relaxing on his chest. "I wonder if you count, kiddo. I mean, you're certainly 'new'." He ran a finger softly around one of Andrew's delicate ears, over the fresh fuzz of brown hair that was starting to replace the light beige he'd been born with. "But I'm pretty sure this here means, like, new **recruits** , not new **borns**. Anyway, next up is O: The Templar Order-"

"Ah-hgm."

At the sound of William's throat clearing, Desmond looked up from _Alphabetical Initiation_. "What's up, Dad?"

"Just letting you know I, ah, won't be here for the next two, three weeks."

"A mission?"

William couldn't fail to detect the eager interest in Desmond's voice. "Not as such. We do have a few things to monitor in DC. But I think it's really just Gavin wanting to touch base with me, and introduce me to some of his new recruits."

"Huh." Desmond had heard of this Gavin guy; he was one of the high-ranking Assassin muckity-mucks: just a step or two down the totem pole from William. "Well, uh, have fun, I guess. Spencer going with you again for protection?"

"No, Gavin's team is protection enough. They're coming round to collect me tomorrow."

Desmond blinked. "Oh. He... and his team... coming **here**? But, uh... Andrew." He sat up, mouth twitching nervously as he cradled the baby. "The whole... thing... with my uuu... you know." The word "uterus" felt strange and uncomfortable on his tongue, so he swapped it out. "Secret, remember?"

"Yes, Desmond," William said, a bit peeved, "I haven't forgotten. I don't like keeping secrets from my own people, but I'm willing to keep up the pretense of Alice de Rossi as his mother."

"But won't they notice she's kind of **not here**?"

William sighed. "They're only stopping by very briefly, Desmond, all right? They probably won't even come in the building, and if they do, they certainly won't be investigating the place too thoroughly."

"Good." Desmond gestured with his eyes around the bedroom. "One look at this hot mess and they'd know I'm a fuckin' bachelor."

 

* * *

 

August 31, 2013

 

"Christ on a cracker, Dad. You guys are like twins." Desmond's eyes flickered back and forth between the two men. Gavin Banks was nearly the spitting image of William Miles. Both faces had the same gunmetal gaze, the same time-worn creases, even the same pattern of hair, though Gavin's was a little longer and wasn't nearly as gray, but instead mostly a dull brown. On top of that, they both carried themselves in that same self-assured manner that screamed 'Look, I know what I'm doing here, don't question me'. The combined effect was as if Desmond was seeing two of his father standing before him, albeit one a bit younger.

"Yes, we do look a bit similar," William said offhandedly, as if the similarity was barely noticeable. "You're not the first to remark on it."

"Perhaps we're distantly related." Gavin gave the Mentor a slight smile. "Maybe I should give the Animus a whirl and investigate that sometime."

"Oh, speakin' of which: Can I use the Animus while you're gone?" Desmond blurted.

William frowned and stepped closer to him, hands grasped together behind his back. "I thought we were clear on this, Desmond. It's not necessary anymore."

"Yeah, but if you're not gonna be here for weeks, then that'll slow down our progress with Edward," Desmond reasoned, the words spinning out of him boldly. "We gotta find that Observatory before the Templars, and I want to help."

"He's got a point there, Bill," Gavin said. "Why not let him-"

William flung a hand up to cut off his friend's sentence. "Because he's already used it for far too long, that's why not!"

"I can handle it, Dad, geez!"

"Can you, really?" William spat. "Don't think I've forgotten what happened during Andrew's birth."

Desmond ground his teeth, considering his response carefully. "That was just stress, okay? I was really stressed because Alice was having a tough time. And it was just a language bleed anyway, I was still me, not Ezio or anyone else."

William stared him down. Desmond got up from his chair to meet the stare as an equal. He was not a child anymore and he would not let himself be treated as such. "Look, I understand you're worried, but I know my limits, all right? I've been in there for days and I was barely affected, and this time I'll just be doing a few hours at a time."

"You did say you needed to finish those Kenway memories pronto," Gavin put in.

William wheeled about to face him and shot back, "We're getting through it fast enough, we don't need to risk Desmond's mental health."

"'Fast enough' might not be as fast as Abstergo's moving, Bill. How about some of my team stay here and join the sync effort?"

"No, Gavin, we need your team to stay focused on the situation in DC!"

"What's more important: preventing the shutdown or finding the Observatory?"

"They're **both** important, obviously! It doesn't have to be either-or!"

"All right, all right." Gavin held up his hands in defeat. "I get it, Bill, you're worried about your son. Maybe overly so, but I guess that's not unexpected after what happened last year."

"Yes," William stepped back to stand beside Desmond, put an arm around him and grasped his shoulder tightly, "and don't forget, he's got a son of his own to care for now."

Desmond stiffened at the touch but didn't pull away. "How many times do I have to tell you? I can be an Assassin and a dad at the same time. If you'd let me, that is," he added as a harsh coda.

"You're still an Assassin, no matter what, don't you forget it," William said, looking unflinchingly into Desmond's eyes.

"Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt," came Rebecca's voice from behind Gavin, "but Andrew's all fussy, I can't get him to chill out."

William and Gavin fell silent and spun to look at her as Desmond rushed over to take the squalling baby off her hands.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up, what's wrong?" he said, rocking him gently and prodding his butt to check his diaper.

"Spencer just changed him, so that's not it," Rebecca said.

"No," Desmond said with slight laughter in his voice, "I think that's **exactly** it." He laid Andrew down on the table and unsnapped his onsie, then nimbly adjusted something on the side of the diaper. His cries immediately changed timbre, becoming much mellower. "All better," Desmond said brightly, refastening the onesie and lifting Andrew back up to snuggle him over his shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Spencer did a shit job of diapering, Becca." Desmond switched flawlessly to a one-handed baby hold and used the other hand to mime stabbing a dagger into his own hip. "Frickin' safety pin came undone and was poking him right here."

Rebecca whistled. "Man, it's scary how fast you figured that out."

"Hard to believe he's a first-timer at parenting," Gavin said with a smile. "So, this is the baby I've been hearing about."

"Yeah. This is my little kiddo. The amazing Andrew Miles." He'd quieted down by now, and Desmond again felt that weird sense of warmth filling him as he looked at the boy's peaceful face. _That's the love, dude,_ he reminded himself. _You love your kid, same as any good parent._

"May I?" Gavin held out his hands.

Desmond hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Gavin- he was, after all, an Assassin, and one of his father's oldest friends- but still, handing Andrew to a guy he'd just met didn't feel right. "Uh, I dunno. He doesn't let just anybody hold him. He's most comfortable with me... And Alice, of course," he added as soon as he remembered to.

"Oh." Gavin lowered his arms and looked around. "Where is Alice, anyway?"

"Showering," Rebecca answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Well, I'd like to meet her before we're off. Congratulate her on this fine little fellow."

"I'll pass along the congrats," Desmond said. "She takes really long showers. Like **really** long."

William nodded. "True, and we do need to get a move on soon, Gavin."

"Right you are, Bill. Well, it was nice to meet this guy, at least." Gavin patted Andrew's head lightly and turned to leave.

Desmond followed them wordlessly out the kitchen and down the hallway until they came to the front door of the building, then finally grabbed at his last chance. "Come on, Dad. I don't wanna be useless."

William turned back with a quizzical look. "Hm? Oh, the Animus issue still." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"Stubbornness must be a Miles family trait." Gavin smirked slightly and nudged William's arm. "Hey, think of it this way, Bill: maybe the effects clear out of your system after a period of abstinence. And Desmond hasn't been in it since December, so maybe there's nothing to worry about."

"No, he-" William began, but stopped.

Desmond knew he'd been about to disclose the month spent in search of Andrew's parentage, and he suppressed a grin. _Can't tell him that, Dad, 'cause then the whole Alice story falls apart. What say you now?_

"I... I don't..." William's face was tense as he struggled with his thoughts. "I just... I don't understand why. Why do you want this so much, Desmond?" His voice rose to fever pitch and he took hold of Desmond's shoulder again. "Is it some kind of game to you?! To see how much you can take before you snap?!"

"Of course not!" Desmond snarled.

"Then why? I thought you hated the Animus! And now you're begging to be put in there again!"

"Look, I don't want to go crazy any more than the next guy, but I also don't want the Templars to find out where we are!"

"But still, you don't have to-"

"But I **want** to!" Desmond cut in. "It's my fault they have my DNA in the first place, 'cause I was a stupid kid and ran away and got captured, and now they can see all my ancestors and that's bad enough, but if they find the Observatory then... Well, you know what'll happen then, I don't hafta say it." He frowned and unknowingly hugged Andrew tighter.

"Ah." Now William understood. The dynamics of the situation were all too familiar.

The father that would do anything to protect his son. Would risk his sanity to keep him safe. Would risk the world burning to keep him alive.

"All right." He patted Desmond's shoulder briefly. "I'll allow it."

Desmond's eyes lit up, almost unbelieving.

"But we'll limit your Animus time more strictly than that of the others," William added, wagging a stern finger. "One-hour sessions."

"One hour?" Desmond whined. "That's like nothing! Gimme two hours!"

William pursed his lips. "...Ninety minutes."

"Deal." Desmond again shifted Andrew to one arm and shook hands to seal their agreement.

"And if there's any sign of trouble, Miss Crane will cut you off, is that clear?" William lifted his eyes to shoot a pointed glance down the hall at Rebecca.

"Of course Dad, of course." Desmond smiled and poked at Andrew's nose playfully. "Hear that, kiddo? Daddy's gonna help find the crystal skull!"

Andrew responded to this by drooling happily and flailing one arm in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere apologies if Gavin is out of character, but Initiates got gutted in the redesign so I couldn't reread the timeline to refresh my memory of his personality, and the AC wiki didn't give me much to go on. (like seriously the "personality and characteristics" section just says he's got a tiny bit of eagle vision and he's good at freerunning)
> 
> (wait, shit, if Gavin had eagle vision and he's a friend of Bill's then that doesn't jibe with chapter six where I said Bill didn't believe in eagle vision fuuuuuuuuuck my Desmond-lives-and-has-Clay's-baby AU is incompatible with canon D:)


	15. Back In The Saddle Again

September 1, 2013

"Hurry up, Desmond!" Rebecca's voice rang down the hallway. "Baby's waiting for ya!"

"Hold on," he called back over Andrew's whines, "I'm kind of in the middle of taking care of my actual baby!" He turned to shoot an annoyed glare into the crib. "C'mon, buster, settle down and go to sleep already. Or at least be quiet."

Andrew, still crying, floundered about unsteadily and waggled his head side-to-side.

Desmond blinked. "Okay, I know you're **way** too young to be saying 'no' to me already, so I'm gonna dismiss that as a random movement." He leaned over, one hand gripping the crib railing and the other poking the baby's nose in an authoritarian manner as he commanded, "Be. Qui. Et."

Andrew slowly ceased his restless wiggling and crying.

"Good. Now I'm off to sync with my pirate ancestor." Desmond smiled, formed his index finger into a hook and tickled Andrew's chin with it. "I'll be back in a couple arrrs, matey!" He straightened up and headed down the hall. Spencer passed him on the way, and they exchanged a nod, but just then, the bone-chilling screams restarted.

"Agg!" Spencer covered his ears. "How does such a little guy make such a loud sound? If he keeps this up, he'll rupture his voicebox or something!"

"You better hurry and calm him down then," Desmond said. He clapped Spencer on the back, then hustled along to the Animus room and closed the door to muffle the screams.

"All righty, take a seat, bud," Rebecca said with a grin.

Desmond plopped down into the familiar lounge chair and sighed. "Ahh. Just like old times."

Rebecca snorted. "Don't tell me you're all nostalgic and shit? Don't you hate having to sync genetic memories?"

"Well, yes and no. I mean, yeah, I sure hated having to do it all day everyday." Desmond reached up and adjusted the cranial input sensors. "But in limited quantities, Animus-ing is kinda fun. Like watching a movie, only you're actually there."

Rebecca shrugged. "Well, Abstergo **is** making it into an entertainment system."

"They are?"

"Yeah, they're hoping to get everything ready in time for it to be the hot ticket item for Xmas 2014, with Edward's virtual pirate experience as their flagship title. Censoring out anything that makes Templars look bad, of course." She hit a command on her keyboard and Desmond appeared in the loading area. "Plus they're already indexing the rest of your ancestors to try and find another profitable one."

Desmond shuddered, both from the odd chill that always settled over him when he was removed from reality and plopped in the Animus void, and from the reminder that Abstergo's cubicle jockeys were digging around in his DNA, planning to port out sanitized versions of his ancestors' lives to the masses. "Uggh, that's so gross."

"Yeah, well, they gotta fund their world domination schemes somehow. Anywho, let's see... Hm. Hope you're in the mood for some sailing today."

"Don't all this guy's memories involve sailing? I mean, he **is** a pirate," Desmond said with a smirk.

"Well, some memories more than others. Oh, Spencer, what-"

Desmond heard a gratingly familiar cry start to echo around him. "Goddammit, Spencer!" he called out into the emptiness. "I'm kinda busy right now, I can't take care of Andrew!"

"I'm sorry, man, but he just wouldn't stop freaking out, no matter what I do!"

"Uggh." He exited the Animus, sat up with a vehement frown, and held out his arms. "Give 'im here."

Andrew calmed down almost immediately after Spencer handed him over. Desmond's frown withered away as the tiny frantic hands reflexively clutched at his shirt and the little sparkling eyes met his own.

"Aww, lookit that!" Rebecca crooned. "He's all better when he's with daddy!"

Desmond smiled softly. "Yeah, he sure is."

"I bet he was scared and worried about where you went!"

"I didn't go anywhere," Desmond said, rolling his eyes. "But I guess his baby-brain probably thinks I don't exist if he can't see me."

"Let's set him up in here, then, so he can keep an eye on you."

And so they did. They didn't have a playpen, so Spencer brought a mid-size laundry basket to serve as a substitute. Desmond folded his hoodie into the bottom of the basket for cushioning, "and so he can, y'know, smell me on it, and be comforted and stuff."

"Should I go get some of his toys?" Spencer asked. "Like the Ezio?"

"Nah, not Ezio," Desmond said, "He's got small parts that can come off and Andrew could choke on."

Rebecca looked absolutely hurt. "You mean me and Stace worked our butts off making that guy, and he's not even child-safe?!"

"Maybe when he's older, but for now, nope. Bring one of those soft rattle deals," Desmond suggested.

But by the time Spencer returned with the rattle, Andrew, soothed by the familiar scent of his father just as predicted, was already drifting into a doze.

"Never seen him conk out so fast," Desmond said. "Guess he really tired himself out with all that crying." He snapped a quick phone photo of the adorable sleeper, then returned to the Animus.

Rebecca's voice boomed from above him. "So, like I was sayin' before, I hope you're up for some serious sailing today, 'cause Edward's heading from Great Inagua to North Carolina."

"Umm. Great where?"

"It's an island in the Bahamas."

"All right. Gimme a minute to get up to speed on a few things first." He brought up the database and started skimming through selected entries.

"Take your time," Rebecca said. "I'm not gonna start counting down your time limit until you're actually in Edward."

Desmond read over 'Edward Kenway', 'Great Inagua', 'Dancers', and a few others that happened to catch his eye. "Hey, where's the entry on what-his-face... the dude Spencer mentioned..." He racked his brain until he remembered the name. "James Kidd?"

"Oh." Rebecca laughed, bright and good-natured. "Go read 'Mary Read'. Whoever's writing these purged the James entry."

Desmond was thoroughly confused. "Mary? What? And you mean it's not Shaun writing 'em?"

"The Entertainment goons are writing this stuff. Shaun's just a barista."

"Really? I woulda thought he'd consider himself overqualified for something like that." Desmond swiped up to scroll the list of entries until he came to Mary Read, then opened it with another gesture. "Oh... Cross-dresser, huh? Guess I get why she did it. Women had it pretty shitty back then."

"Maybe cross-dresser, maybe not. James-slash-Mary might have been full-on trans," Rebecca said. "Would be cool to find a descendant and explore zir memories directly."

"Trans... sexual? Wait, did you just say 'zir'?"

Rebecca nodded, though Desmond of course couldn't see her. "It's a gender-neutral pronoun. Ze, zir, zirs."

Desmond didn't know what to say to this, so he just settled for "...All righty then."

"Unfortunately, trans people had it pretty shitty back then too."

"And gay people, and black people, and poor people, et cetera, et cetera." Desmond closed the database with a wave of his avatar's hand. "Shit sucked balls for most of history."

"Hey, sucking balls shouldn't be a bad thing! Be more sex-positive, man!"

Desmond's face twitched and flushed faintly pink. "Okay, this conversation is getting a little weird for my taste. Just load up Edward and lemme get my synch on already."

"All right, here we go."

The loading area faded to deep navy blue and a whiff of invigorating salty air washed over him. He smiled so wide he thought his face might split in two.

 

* * *

_Come all you young sailor men, listen to me  
I’ll sing you a song of the fish in the sea_

Steering the Jackdaw was tricky. Desmond had thought it wouldn't be any different than steering the Aquila but he was dead wrong.

_And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys  
When the wind blows, we’re all together, boys_

Well, at least he'd have plenty of practice with it by the end of today's session. Edward was due to meet up with Blackbeard on Ocracoke Island, some nine hundred miles north of Great Inagua. So far Desmond had only gotten about a hundred miles into the journey. He would've been bored to death on the endless sea if it wasn't for the unpredicable currents and gales he had to keep adjusting for.

_Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,  
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes._

The sea shanties rising up from the unexpectedly talented voices of the crew helped to hold his interest as well. Not to mention the fact that he was excited as hell about getting to meet motherfucking **Blackbeard**. _Man, I hope he turns out to be cool, and not kind of a dick like Washington._

_Up jumps the eel with his slippery tail  
Climbs up aloft and reefs the topsail_

Just as Desmond was wondering what "reef" meant in verb form, he heard a _bzzzzpt!_ and the wheel jittered in his hands. "Woah there. Choppy wind arising," Edward said.

The crew's singing gradually petered out. Harsh little waves flickered and flapped ominously against the hull. Adéwalé gripped the rail to keep his balance as he scanned the darkening sky.

A crewman called out something from the crow's nest.

Edward cupped a hand to his ear. "How's that, mate?"

The crewman repeated himself but all Desmond heard was another buzzing noise. The wheel jittered again and then morphed into an entirely different wheel. _Fuck, Animus glitch! Hope it doesn't screw up my session_.

Just as he thought that, the entire ship fractured into wireframe, then nothingness. Edward's hands now gripped a wheel floating in midair. _Shit._

The crewmen disappeared one by one in pops and blips until it was just Edward and Adéwalé adrift in an oceanic emptiness. "Becca? What's happening?" Desmond called. The words came out in a strange mashup of Welsh and American accent.

"The generator-" Adéwalé started to answer in Rebecca's voice, but then he too was gone.

"Uh?" Desmond said, then shut his eyes tight, grimacing as a wave of frigid pain rocked his skull. A feedback sound arose all around him, and he wanted to plug his ears against the din, but couldn't seem to locate his hands... or arms... or any part of his body. _Shit shit shit shit shiiiit_ was all he could think.

The feedback twisted and distorted, slowly becoming like the miserable crying of a baby. Static electricity and bitter cold built up in his skin until it was unbearable.

 

* * *

Desmond didn't realize he'd passed out until he woke back up, jolting upright in the Animus chair. "Pah... wha? Za?" he stuttered, wiping a string of drool from his chin as his mind sluggishly rebooted itself.

Rebecca was saying something, but he didn't hear it, for just then a loud crash shook the building. The Animus workroom was in near-darkness, only barely illuminated by a picture window into the stormy sky. As the thunderbolt faded away, that crying baby sound started anew, or perhaps it had never stopped at all-

"Oh shit!" Eagle Vision coming on automatically, Desmond flung himself to his feet and across the room to the glittering source of the sound. "Andrew, hey, shhh, shhh." He gathered the baby in his arms and held him tight. "C'mon, shh, you're okay, I gotcha, you're safe."

Andrew's limbs flailed and his tiny heartbeat was racing, but his cries grew a tiny bit softer now. Desmond wondered how long he'd been crying, and shot an angry glare to Rebecca as he continued muttering soothing words. "It's okay, kiddo, it's okay, just some lightning and a power outage, you're safe, Daddy's here."

The apologetic blue glow that was Rebecca got up from her desk and approached them. "...all happened so fast, I'm sorry, Desmond," she was saying, the words only half-audible underneath Andrew's cries and the pounding rain. "Some freak power surge."

"But it's okay now, right?" Desmond asked, trying to make himself heard but also trying not to yell. "The Animus isn't completely fried?"

"Maybe, maybe not." She shook her head, wiped some hair out of her eyes. "No way to know at this point. Not while the power's out."

"Fuck."

As if to underscore the situation, another lightning bolt rumbled and flashed outside the window, and Andrew redoubled his volume. "Hey, chillax, kiddo, shhh. Yeah, this sucks, but crying won't fix it." Desmond turned away from the window so Andrew wouldn't be frightened by any more lighting bolts. "Shh, shhh... Hey, how 'bout a song?" He rocked back and forth steadily, which he'd learned was a foolproof recipe for soothing his son, and started to hum a jaunty tune.

Rebecca smiled and watched. Andrew's panic was eased by the gentle rhythm of Desmond's rocking and the firm warmth of his hug. As the crying faded away, he switched from humming to quietly singing an improvised sea shanty.

_Calm down, little Andrew, and listen to me_  
_I'll sing you a song to make you happy_  
_And it's rainy weather, kid, stormy weather_  
_But no matter what, we’re all together_  
_Rebecca will fix up the Animus_  
_And we will kick all of the Templar's butts_  
_And it's rainy weather, kid, stormy weather_  
_But no matter what, we're all together_  
_Daddy is here, and he'll keep you safe_  
_And something something that rhymes with safe_  
_And it's rainy weather, kid, stormy weather_  
_But no matter what, we're all together_

Desmond went back to humming for a few seconds, then repeated, "No matter what, we're all together."

"Hey." Spencer's voice cut into the stillness as he appeared in the doorway with a flashlight. "Colin's working on getting the power back."

"Nice," Rebecca said.

"Junior pretty freaked out, huh?"

"Uh-huh." Desmond squeezed Andrew's hand. "He's cool now, though, aren'tcha, kid?"

Andrew let out a contented burble.

"How about you, Des?" Rebecca asked. "I saw some crazy readings right before everything shut down. How'd the power surge affect you?"

"Messed my shit up pretty bad in the Animus, but I'm fine now," he said. "Now all I got is kind of a headache, which might just be from kiddo's super loud crying, and some pins'n'needles in my fingers." Another bolt of lightning lit up the window, and he hurried to cover Andrew's ears before the corresponding thunderclap came a second later. "Damn, that storm's pretty close."

"Close enough to zap our generator, yeah," Spencer said.

Rebecca patted Desmond on the back and laughed wryly. "Guess this isn't much of a happy Assassiversary for you, huh?"

"Well, it could be a hella lot worse." Desmond suddenly got a huge smile on his face. "Hey, let's go celebrate with drinks."

"As in cocktails?" Spencer asked. "We don't exactly have a full bar."

"Oh, I know what we have, and I'm pretty sure I can whip something up," Desmond said with a gleam in his eye as he led the way to the kitchen.

When they got there, Rebecca took over holding Andrew, and she and Spencer sat at the table as Desmond busied himself at the counter mixing up something they couldn't quite see in the near-darkness. A jug of milk glugged, a long spoon clinked, and a cork popped from a bottleneck while rain pitter-pattered against the roof. The storm was still raging, but seemed to be raging its way farther from their den now.

Finally Desmond came over to the table, bearing a large pitcher of white liquid. "Here we go. This is somethin' brand new I've been thinking of trying out for a while," he said. "I present to you: The Brotherhood."

Spencer pointed the flashlight beam into the pitcher. "You invented a new drink?"

"Well, to be fair, it's kinda based on the Brotherly Love, but it's way different," Desmond said, retrieving three glasses from a cupboard.

"What's in it?"

Desmond grinned and the gleam in his eye came back. "Are you asking me to compromise the secrecy of The Brotherhood?"

Rebecca chortled. "I see what you did there. Looks like we'll have to take a 'drink of faith' that it's not poisonous or shitty-tasting. So why's it all in a big honking pitcher instead of glasses?"

"That's part of the presentation. See, you mix it up in one big pitcher, like for unity and solidarity, and then when you pour it out to each glass, it's for individuality and freedom."

"Wow, just what I want in my booze," Spencer said. "A crapload of symbolism."

"Oh! Looks like Andrew's wanting a drink too," Rebecca said, giggling as the baby rooted around and tried vainly to latch onto a nipple through her shirt. "Silly kid, I don't have milk in there any more than your daddy does!"

While Desmond prepared a bottle of formula, Spencer poured himself a glass of the mysterious Brotherhood cocktail and took a hesitant sip. "Oh hey," he said, eyebrows jumping, "this isn't half bad."

"'Course not, I'm an experienced bartender after all."

"Mm. Bartender, Assassin, single father: you're a triple threat, man."

Desmond made a strange involuntary choking sound in his throat. "Geez, single father. Y'know, I never really realized it, but I guess, yeah, I am a single father." He took Andrew off of Rebecca's hands and started feeding him.

Spencer snorted into his drink. "Well, obviously."

"I know, it's just- I've got all you guys helping me out, y'know. So, yeah I'm technically single, but I'm definitely not going it alone." He felt a tear come to his eye. A tear of happiness. "It's so crazy. A year ago, I had what I thought was a pretty perfect life. A steady job, a pretty good social life, not a care in the world... and now that's all changed. But my life feels so much fuller now, even though I have a lot less control over it."

"Because you're back where you belong, back with the Assassins," Spencer said, and he sounded much older and more mature than his usual. "Because now you're not wasting your life."

"Hey, be nice." Rebecca gave Spencer a little jab in the arm.

Desmond shook his head. "No, Becca, he's right. I was wasting my life. It's like my dad once said: No ambition. No direction..." He trailed off, then started a new thought. "The kidnapping, and everything that followed it..." He smirked up at his friends. "It was really, really fucked. But, y'know? I like how it turned out in the end."

Andrew burped, and Desmond wiped his mouth off. "Yes, kiddo, even you aren't that bad, when you're not hurting my insides with kicks or my ears with crying."

"A toast." Rebecca raised her glass, already half-empty. "To well-behaved babies, and many more happy Assassiversaries."

"And kicking Templar butts." Desmond clinked Andrew's bottle against Spencer and Rebecca's glasses.


	16. Things To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whassa matter you, Andrew?

After about twenty minutes, the lightning and thunder faded away, though the rain persisted. Colin had by now managed to get their backup power generator going, but the Animus was still out of commission.

"Yeah, it looks like there was some weird feedback stuff from that power surge," Rebecca said, worry lines etched deeply in her forehead.

Desmond leaned over her shoulder, trying to make sense of the intricate text crowding her screen. "What do you mean, 'feedback stuff'?"

"I mean parts of the synch file got overwritten with nonsense." Rebecca waggled a finger at one section of the code. "This here, for example."

Desmond pulled an incredulous face."So you're saying the power surge actually edited the fucking code? How's that even possible?"

"Simple. The synch file's updated from your progress through the memories, right?"

"Yeah, derr."

"And the human memory- pretty much all brain activity, come to think of it- is basically just your neurons flicking electrical signals back and forth to each other. So I'm guessing when the lightning bashed its way through our surprisingly weaksauce surge protector, it overloaded the cranial input and Baby's synch update process got hella confused."

"Huh, guess that makes sense. You can fix it, right?"

"I'm sure I can salvage the overall system, so we'll still have a working Animus at least, but some of the synch data might be corrupted beyond repair." Rebecca brought up a window of files and scrolled through it. "I'd restore from a backup, but most of those got wiped too, looks like."

Desmond winced. "Shit. Those Templar assholes are gonna beat us to the punch, I fucking know it."

Rebecca paused her furious typing to wipe sweat from her face and give him a sharp-eyed smile. "Hey, I know this seems bad, but you don't gotta turn all Negative Nelly on me. Hell, we stopped a global apocalypse, so repairing this should be a cinch."

" **We**  didn't stop it, that magic Precursor orb thing did," Desmond retorted, meeting her smile with a glare. "And I don't see any fucking magic orbs around here, do you?"

"Look, point is we've gotten out of worse situations."

"Don't waste time trying to cheer me up. Just focus on the Animus." Desmond left the room in a huff.

Spencer caught up with him as he headed back to his room to check on the napping Andrew. "What's the sitch?"

"Animus code got all fucked. We won't be able to run a session until Rebecca gets it back to normal."

Spencer winced and rubbed his forehead. "Ag."

"Yeah, like mega-uber-'ag'!" Desmond said through a frown. "What the fuck is 'ag' anyway?!"

"It's what South Africans say for 'dammit'," Spencer said, a tiny hint of a laugh in his voice. "Was the meaning not obvious from context?"

"You speak South African?"

Spencer shook his head. "It's 'Afrikaans'. And nah, I can't really. My folks taught me and Esi some, but I never got the hang of it being around all the other kids speaking English... Plus I've forgotten most of it since they died." The tiny laugh was gone now, and his voice was hollow with echoes of grief.

"Crap, I'm sorry," Desmond said. "Didn't mean to make you all sad."

Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his dense shaggy curls. "It's fine. We've all lost people we love. Comes with the territory, doesn't it? Endless war and all."

"Yeah, well..." Desmond floundered for an appropriate thing to say. "If you ever wanna talk about it?"

"What good would that do?" Spencer snapped back, suddenly irritable. "We gotta keep our minds on the present, not waste time rehashing the past."

"Uh... isn't 'rehashing the past' kind of what we're doing most of these days?"

"Yeah, but we can't even do **that** while the Animus is out of commission. Meanwhile, Abstergo soldiers on ahead of us!"

Desmond sighed. "Yeah. Not much we can do, huh. Shit sucks."

 

* * *

 

Shit especially sucked when it was literal shit. Desmond fought to hold his breath as he twisted the soiled cloth into a wad and crammed it deep into the diaper bin, then grabbed for the room deodorizer and spread a few sprays around. "Can't wait till you start using the toilet," he muttered. Cute and lovable though Andrew was, changing him was always a chore. Moreso when he wouldn't cooperate and stay still throughout the process, as was the case today. Desmond had almost gotten the new diaper on when Andrew suddenly let out a whine and kicked his hand away.

"Oh no you don't!" Desmond yelped. Quick as a flash, he maneuvered the diaper back into place and pinned it shut before Andrew could wiggle too far out of position. "Ha-hah! You're no match for my speed, kiddo!"

Andrew wiggled and rolled to one side, making a soft sound of discontent.

The sound, soft though it was, cut straight to Desmond's heart. "Aw, something wrong, li'l guy?" he asked tenderly as he fastened the blue-striped onesie closed. "You ate, you had a nap, and you're all freshly changed, so you should be all good, right? Whassa matter?" A possibility struck him just then, and he looked to the window. A strong wind had picked up in the last few minutes, pushing the raindrops diagonally through the grey air, leading them to patter loud and relentless against the glass. "Is it the rain? Guess I see how that'd bother you. Today's the first time we got rain since before you were born, so it's new and scary, huh?" He gathered Andrew, still whimpering morosely, gently into his arms and sat down on the bed. "I know, rain sucks. But it sucks a lot less when you're inside.... Inside a nice cozy house with your friends and family.... Not out in the woods tryna keep a fire going, or on the side of a highway tryna thumb a lift, or in the back alleys of Chicago tryna escape some knife-wielding madman... I know, Andrew, 'cause I've been in all three of those situations. And more."

Andrew had calmed considerably by now, the familiarity of his father's voice outweighing the terror of the raindrops. "Uh-wa," he said, if the word "said" could even apply to that random test of his vocal cords.

Desmond smiled. "Look at you, you're practically talking already. Smart kid." He rubbed his face cheek-to-cheek against Andrew's. "Bet you'll be smart enough not to run away," he murmured. "Maybe you'll grow up and be a tech whiz like Rebecca or... this guy I used to know. This really brave guy who went and became a test subject so he could secretly hack Abstergo's computers." He felt a weird twisting in his heart on the subject of Clay, but pushed the feeling aside and continued his one-sided conversation. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll grow up real smart, Andrew, and do lots of cool stuff. Maybe you'll help design a safer Animus, or invent some killer virus and upload it to Abster- Holy shit! That's it!" Desmond leapt back to his feet and raced down the hall as fast as he could without upsetting or endangering the baby in his arms.

 

* * *

 

Interstate 81 was choked with traffic. The inside of the van was silent save for the scratching of William's pencil and the soft blipping of someone's fingers on a touchscreen from the backseat. Gavin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and searched around for a topic of conversation to break up the monotony of their trip. "So... Alice had a tough time of it? With Andrew?"

"Uh?" William looked up from his dog-eared notebook, puzzled.

"Desmond mentioned she had a tough time. Stressed him out so bad he was speaking Italian?"

"Ah." William clicked his pen closed and put it in his shirt pocket. "Yes."

Gavin waited a bit, but when William offered no additional details on his own, he probed further. "Just the usual first-time-giving-birth-didn't-realize-how-painful-it-would-be deal? Or was there some serious complication?"

William pursed his lips tightly.

Deciding to drop the subject, Gavin gave him a pat on the back. "Well, whichever it was, your medic sure helped Alice and Andrew pull through all right in the end. Good show."

"Yes," William finally said. "It was... an unusual birth, but Alice stayed strong."

"Oh? Unusual how?"

William bit his tongue. _Why in the world did I need to say that?_  "Just... medically speaking. I can't say exactly. The specifics are over my head."

Gavin nodded.

"Mr. Vermaak suggested something interesting the other day," William said in order to change the subject. "Though I'm not sure I believe it."

"Oh?"

"He suggested that Eagle Vision may be possible to naturally acquire."

One of Gavin's eyebrows slanted up. "Isn't it usually? Desmond's the only time it ever-"

"By choice, he means. In adulthood."

Gavin pressed his lips together, taking the time to change lanes as he considered this. "How?" he finally asked. "Just by sheer force of will?"

"He's determined to try."

"But try **what** , exactly?"

"Gav, sorry, can I interrupt?" A young Assassin leaned forward from the backseat, clutching a tablet computer in long slender fingers.

"What is it, Shahvir?"

"Just got a message from Chicago. Looks like Garneau is out of the picture."

"Out of- They killed him?!" William spluttered, eyes flashing. "I gave no such order! In fact I specifically said-"

"Nothing to do with us!" Shavir said quickly, handing the tablet up for William's perusal. "Seems Chicago's gone nuts lately, and he just got caught in the crossfire."

William snatched the tablet and frowned very hard at it, as if the screen itself had wronged him somehow. "Great," he spat, shoving it back to Shahvir, then got out his notebook again and started scribbling angrily. "With him no longer at the helm in Montreal, they'll send someone new in. The devil we don't know. And most likely a devil less ignorant, less complacent. Things could get rougher for our moles."

"Think we should pull Shaun out?" Gavin asked.

"Perhaps." William crossed something out in his notebook with a violent slash. "But then again, he may be safer where he is. His cover might get blown, but I doubt he'll be in physical peril. They'd be taking a big risk trying to do anything with the Entertainment know-nothings all around as witnesses."

"Bill, you know they have ways to make it look like an accident."

William made a rough sound in his throat and flipped to another page in the notebook.

Gavin tried lightening the mood. "Well, then again, it's tricky to have a fatal accident as a barista. Hot coffee scalds, but doesn't kill easily."

"Focus on driving, please."


	17. Little by Little

"A virus!" Desmond shouldered open the door to the Animus workroom. "A fuckin' virus, Becca!"

But there was no-one there. Desmond blinked.

"Whatcha yelling about, bud?"

He turned around to see Rebecca behind him in the hall, her hair wet and unkempt. "A virus," he repeated, only slightly calmer. "A computer virus."

"Uh, no? A power sur-"

"What I mean is you should **code** a virus," Desmond clarified. " **That's** how we'll slow down Abstergo from finding the crystal skull! See, we've got access to their servers, right?"

"Not really."

"How'd we get all those files and shit, then, huh? The videos about Edward and Ezio?"

Rebecca pursed her lips to stifle a laugh. "Did we not explain this fully enough? Julia's copying files to us, but obviously we're not able to actually edit anything on their system."

"Oh." Desmond's elation started to drain away. "Is there maybe a way around that? Hack a backdoor?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Maybe. Could be a mite tricky, depending on how well they're secured. John's the one who'd know."

"Well then ask him!" Desmond leaned forward intensely. A string of drool dribbled from Andrew's mouth.

"Careful, I just showered." Rebecca stepped back. "I'll try asking him if I ever meet him in person. Stuff like that will bite us in the ass if we leave an email trail."

Desmond wiped the drool away with his sleeve. "I guess I really don't know anything about how shit works. You don't meet John on your little trips up there?"

"Nobody does, from what I hear. He's a lone wolf in their IT department."

"Like a literal basement-dweller." Desmond turned again to see Colin was suddenly there. "Hey Des-o."

Desmond actually wasn't too peeved at this nickname. "Hey... Col-o?"

"That's the spirit." Colin grinned. "When you get a moment free, Stace-o's wantin' to see And-o."

"Oh, right, he needs his one-month checkup." Desmond exchanged a look with Rebecca before turning back to Colin. "Well, Animus is still down, so I got nothing else going on."

 

* * *

 

"Nine pounds, twelve ounces. Growing good." Stacey lifted Andrew up from the scale, handed him back to Desmond, and made a note on a sheet of paper. "Is he sleeping well?"

Desmond considered the question. "Eh. Well enough. _Alice in Wonderland_ usually knocks him out from nine till at least midnight. Then he's back up wanting something again." He shrugged. "But I guess that's normal for a baby. Overall he sleeps a lot more than I'd thought. Like two-thirds of the day."

"Well, all that growing uses energy, so sleep is important." Stacey slashed through a checkbox and moved on to the next item. "Eliminating regularly?"

Desmond smirked. "You mean peeing and pooping."

She smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Like clockwork, unfortunately. Especially pooping." Desmond shook his head and chuckled. "Forget growing inside me, the real unbelievable thing is how the fuck his body turns Enfamil into that toxic sludge."

"Any diaper rash?"

"Luckily, no."

Stacey slashed out another box. "Alright. Any questions or concerns you're having?"

"Nope." Desmond adjusted Andrew bouncily in his arms. "This baby-raising thing is easier than I expected. Hope he stays this manageable his whole life."

"And you? You're feeling okay?"

"Me? I'm good. I'm not postpartum depressed, if that's what you're asking."

Stacey smiled again. "Good. I'd been worried. You were..." Her smile faltered.

"Yeah? I was what?" Desmond asked, a little defensive.

"You were pretty moody during pregnancy, okay? Almost suicidal at times, if you recall."

Desmond's mouth tightened. "Well I thought I was being hijacked by Juno, so can you fucking blame me?"

"No, no, of course I don't blame you," Stacey soothed, taking his words more literally than he'd meant them. "It was really scary for all of us, okay? And you were caught up in the middle of it all, and your hormones were wildly out of whack..."

"Well I'm fine now." Desmond patted Andrew's back. "You sure as hell aren't Juno, are ya, kiddo?" Andrew made an indistinct sound, and Desmond smiled. "So it wasn't an evil plot after all. Or if it was, it's a fucking fail one."

"All right, good to hear you're feeling okay. Well, last on the agenda is the Hep B shot." Stacey put down her clipboard and rummaged in a box on the shelf, pulling out a syringe. "Hope he's inherited your non-fear of needles. Hold him still."

"Alright, kiddo," Desmond said, looking into Andrew's wide sweet eyes. "This'll hurt a little but you're gonna be brave. Brave like an Assassin, okie doke? A shot is nothing compared to some of the stuff I've been through."

Andrew watched Desmond's face move as he talked, barely noticing the tiny prick of the injection in his thigh.

"And there ya go! It's over, and now you're a fucking badass who won't get Hep B. Isn't science great?" Desmond grinned and bounced Andrew up and down gently. "You were born from science, ya know that? Dunno if it was the Apple or the Animus, but either way, you're a fucking science baby. Not like all those lame-oid sex babies." He stood up, nodded to Stacey, and walked out of the infirmary, improvising a weird song as he went. "Science baby... look out for science baby... he'll kick your ass 'cause he's got a badass dad, and also 'cause he's a science babeh..."

 

* * *

September 3, 2013

"Is the Animus fixed yet?"

Rebecca jabbed an elbow backwards to get Desmond out of her breathing room.

He nimbly pulled away to avoid the jab. "I take it that's a 'no'?"

"Yeah, it's a 'no'."

"When's it gonna be fixed?"

"God, stop hounding me, man!" Rebecca turned her chair to glare at him. Her usually upbeat attitude was gone. "You sure are antsed-up about this thing!"

"Sorry if I'm 'antsed-up', but I don't wanna just sit on my ass forever while the Templars have a working Animus and we don't!"

"Bugging me isn't gonna get it fixed faster! If you're restless then go for a run or something!"

Desmond hugged Andrew tight in his carrier. "I can't go for a **run** with this li'l guy! His brain'll get shaken around!"

"Hand 'im over to Spencer or something, then! Just, whatever you do, fuck off from hovering around me!" Rebecca spun her chair away from him again and resumed tabbing through screenfuls of code, muttering half-vocalized profanities as Desmond backed out of the workroom.

 

* * *

"Hey Spence, can you take care of Andrew for a bit?"

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Spencer looked up from tying his shoes. "Um, I was just about to go have a run?"

"Oh. I was gonna run too. But, y'know. Can't run with baby."

Spencer gave his shoelaces a mild frown. "There's three other people here; why am I your constant choice for babysitter?"

"Well. Uh." Desmond shrugged. "I dunno, probably 'cause you volunteered, back at the baby shower."

"Thought we were calling it a preggo party, or whatever. And you've used up your ten free hours."

"Aw, c'mon, man. Stacey's busy making dinner, Rebecca's busy fixing the Animus, and Colin's... well, he's Colin." Desmond shrugged again.

"Oh, the guy's all right. Kinda weird, but I doubt Andrew will mind much." Spencer stood up and patted Andrew on the head with one massive hand. "Hey, I been wondering, how did you decide on 'Andrew' in the end?"

"Uh." Desmond paused a moment. "Well... I could say I was being clever, mashing up the names of some'a his ancestors. Like 'An' from Anton, 'D' from myself, 'R' from Raton, 'E' from Ezio, 'W' from Waldemar or William..."

"Wow. Impressive."

Desmond smiled. "Well, yeah, I **could** say that, but it'd be a lie. Really I have no fucking clue why 'Andrew' won out over the other ones on my shortlist." He brushed a hand along the baby's hairline, provoking a soft coo. "But y'know? It seems to fit, doesn't it? I couldn't imagine calling him Travis Miles or Nolan Miles now."

"Andrew's way better than Colton, that's for sure."

Desmond nodded. "You really think Colin has any clue on taking care of kids?"

"He's a smart guy; I'm sure he'll manage for an hour or so." Spencer smiled. "C'mon, we can run together, just like old times."

 

* * *

 

The sky was clear and the air was brisk as their footfalls thudded along.

"Fucking legs.... hurt like crazy," Desmond huffed. "Shoulda expected that, though."

"Yeah, it's the first time you've done serious cardio since I don't even know, right?" Spencer replied, trying to moderate his speed to not outrun his comparatively out-of-shape buddy.

"Fuckin'... February or some shit."

"Lemme know if you need a break."

"No, I'm good.... I got this." Desmond rubbed at an ache in his side. "Gotta... burn off the baby fat... get back in shape for field work."

"You're not going out in the field anytime soon, bro. Not while Andrew's dependent on-"

"Eventually, though!" Desmond cut in.

"All right, all right. Sheesh."

 

* * *

 

When Desmond got back, he was covered in a light sheen of sweat, but it was the familiar and comforting sheen of sweat that was the end result of a great run. It was uplifting to know he could still manage the whole four kilometers around the perimeter even after spending the better part of a year mostly sedentary.

On his way to the shower, he stopped by the kitchen for a quick check on Andrew, who was gurgling quietly on a blanket on the floor while Colin was reading at the table and Stacey was stirring a pot on the stove.

"Hey there kiddo, how ya..." Desmond stopped when he noticed the bold blue words front and center on the baby's shirt.

**[☆ Momma's Boy ☆](http://www.cafepress.com/+mommas_boy_infant_tshirt,495325196) **

Desmond recognized this shirt as one of the unsolicited gifts from Missouri's Assassin den. He made an annoyed grunt, picked up Andrew from the floor-blanket, and called out to the other occupants of the kitchen. "Alright, what wiseass put this on him?"

"Yo." Colin waved a finger at himself. "Somethin' wrong with it?"

"Obviously!"

Colin smiled. "Yep, I know he doesn't have a 'momma', but that's what makes it funny, see? Plus he spit up all over his previous outfit, and this one was nice'n'clean. So."

"Dude, there's a **reason** it's clean, 'cause he's never worn it, 'cause I never put it on him! Even if he had a mom, being a 'momma's boy' is not a good thing, not something you wanna fucking advertise on your shirt! Now I'm gonna take a shower, and when I get back, he better be wearing something way less embarassing!" Desmond stormed out of the kitchen.

Colin let out a soft "Hooo" of disbelief. "Masculinity so fragile, eh, Stace?"

"Indeed."

 

* * *

September 4, 2013

Desmond was sprawled across the floor of his bedroom with the photo album open and a pencil in hand. He'd just put in a photo of his mother and was writing a note underneath it for the future Andrew to read.

"Janet Miles... neé Randez. My mom. Your grandma." Desmond said the words quietly as he wrote. "She was... umm... a very special person. She's descended from Altaïr and Maria, but she's special even without that. She... she always..." He had to stop writing due to his vision going swimmy with tears. "Mom," he said in a hoarse whisper, dropping the pencil and tracing a finger over her ever-smiling face. "God I miss you...." He was silent a long while, until Andrew started whining softly.

"Oh kiddo." Desmond pushed the book aside and picked him up. "You don't gotta be sad just 'cause I'm sad." He patted Andrew's back. "You never even met her. ...I wish you could've. Wonder what she'd say about you."

He closed his eyes and an imagined scene formed in his mind. There she was, as he'd last seen her all those years ago. She was sitting at a table covered in papers, her face soft but intense as she read over reports coming in from the field.

_"Hi Mom."_

She looked up at his voice and smiled.

 _"Mom, I... I had a baby."_ He held Andrew up to show her.

She reached out a hand and Andrew grabbed one of her long slender fingers.

_"Like, I physically had him. From my own body."_

She drew in a little breath, eyes darting from Andrew to Desmond and back. _"Oh my.... Desmond, you are just full of surprises."_

At that point the scene broke down, falling away like the end of an Animus sequence. Desmond wasn't sure he was recalling her voice correctly, and his heart ached for the lost memory. "God, Mom, I'm sorry."

He reopened his eyes to see Andrew's tiny little face. "I'm sure she woulda loved you," he murmured to the wide-eyed baby. "There's no way she wouldn't. No matter how you were born, you're her grandkid." He sniffed back tears and hugged him closer. "But let's not be sad, aright? Let's do like Spencer says: focus on the present. What we have, not what we've lost. I have you, and you have me, and we've got Dad. Sure isn't the ideal family, but it's a family nevertheless."

Rebecca paused in the doorway for a little bit, letting them have this little moment, before clearing her throat to announce her presence.

Desmond started, looking up. “Hm?”

"I've got news on the Animus front.”

“Is it 'good news and bad news'?” Desmond asked warily.

“Well, bad news is you're not gonna get to meet Blackbeard.”

Desmond's mouth went a little pouty. "Aw, man. But... good news is it's usable again?"

"More than that." Rebecca grinned a huge grin. "Remember the 'feedback'? Looks like it was more of a 'backwash'."

"Back... Sorry, what the fuck?"

"Seems that having your brain hooked into the system during the power surge bumped up the synch progress quite a bit. So something good came out of that after all."

"Bumped up the-" Desmond's eyes lit up. "Wait, you mean we get to skip forward in Edward's life?!"

"Looks like." She beckoned to him. "C'mon."

Hands occupied with holding Andrew, Desmond closed the scrapbook with his socked foot and stood up to follow her down the hall to the Animus room.

When they got there, Rebecca swiveled one of her computer monitors to show him the DNA timeline and pointed to a spot about a quarter down it. “So this is where- that is, **when** we were before.” She moved her finger rightward a-ways. “And now we're here.”

"Huh. How exactly-"

Rebecca shrugged with a grin. "Not sure **exactly** how, but like I said, it seems to have something to do with you being in there when the surge happened." Sitting down, she pointed to Andrew. "I'm guessing it would've done the same with him or Bill, too."

Desmond was a little unsettled by the mental image of a baby in an Animus. "Excuse me?"

"Cuz you're descended from Edward, you've got his memories flowing in your veins, even though you can't usually access them. And- somehow or other- part of those memories flowed into the sync file." She patted the hard drive knowingly. "So now Baby thinks you've already done those bits."

Desmond grinned back. "You're still gonna keep calling it 'Baby', huh? Despite the potential for confusion with Andrew?"

"Oh, he's Junior, he's not 'Baby'. Now c'mon." She gestured at the Animus chair. "We've gotta make up for lost time, so let's get crack-a-lacking."

Desmond smiled at Andrew as he set him down in the basket-crib again. "All right, kiddo. I'm gonna check out what's goin' on with Great-Grampa Edward."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my head this chapter was gonna be longer and have Desmond synching through Black Bart's Gambit and stuff but it's taken me almost half a year to get this much so yeah


	18. Black Bart's Gambit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, y'all.

The next memory up in Edward's timeline had him working with one Bartholomew Roberts. He seemed quite an arrogant man; he wouldn't even deign to take a swig from the bottle Edward offered him as they sat on the sand and talked. (Well, _Edward_ was sitting on the sand. Roberts sat on an upturned bucket, perhaps to avoid dirtying his proud outfit.)

"All men desire to live by a code or a creed, yes?" Roberts asked him.

Desmond-slash-Edward nodded.

"Yet, when pressed, most defer to their Instincts, rather than the laws that bind them." Roberts looked up the beach at a few crewmen exchanging jokes and playful punches, as if that proved his point. "What is the appeal of a creed, if it does not yoke all men to like behaviour?"

Edward stood and walked a few steps. "Might make a man feel like he belongs to something." He waved a hand to Roberts. "What's your answer?"

"Ohh, that all men are sheep," Roberts said with distaste. "And an old wolf like me deserves every ounce of blood he draws. And speaking of blood, I require your assistance." He passed Edward a roughly folded piece of paper. "Sail to this location. Bring only those you trust."

 

* * *

 

The gambit Bartholomew had planned saw Edward stealing a Portuguese flag from right off the top of a fully-manned ship: no small feat even under cover of dusk. Desmond desynced a couple times due to being spotted, but managed it on the third go-round. Then they were tailing an actually-Portuguese ship through the archipelago until it docked and a crewman left, carrying a small bit of cargo.

"Could that be our prize?" Roberts asked, voice soaked with eagerness. "Perhaps you should go ashore, Captain Kenway. Find that chest. And if it contains the prize I seek, bring it here."

"Perhaps" or not, there was no use in refusing, not here in the Animus. As much as Abstergo claimed history to be a playground, there was usually not much room to stray from the path.

So Desmond dove off and swam to the shore. Bit-by-bit, using every scrap of shadow and plant life for cover, he evaded the Portuguese sailors scattered across the beach. Then the landscape jutted up suddenly, forming a huge rock wall with only a narrow cranny opening.

From his hiding spot crouched in bushes, he heard a pair of foreign voices conversing. Desmond admitted to himself there was no way to sneak through the narrow passage with those two standing in it. He sighed silently and checked Edward's Hidden Blades for any rust damage, since the guy did spend an awful lot of time at sea. Fortunately the mechanisms were in pretty good shape with very little corrosion. He stepped up from the shrubbery onto a stone ledge and leapt down, blades out.

The two men were dead from severed brain stems by the time they hit the ground.

Past the stone wall and several more patrolling Portuguese, Desmond finally found his goal: a shoebox-sized wooden chest. He crouched down and pried it open with a blade. Inside were a bunch of... well, they looked like artsy-fartsy paperweights, to be honest. Completely cubical, clear glass, with diagonal lines down the sides. He threw a quick message to Rebecca.

I thought there was supposed to be Blood Vials in here?

yep, those are them

These? These are Blood Vials? Don't look like any vials I've ever seen.

so??? apple f eden dosnt look lik an appl

That was a fair point, he admitted with a silent nod.

The moon came out from behind cloud cover for a second. The Blood Vials caught a small gleam of moonlight and reflected like a prism before the clouds blew back over the sky. Desmond picked up one of the things and felt a small prickle through his skin. Not anywhere near the surge of power from picking up an Apple of Eden, but the feeling was ominous all the same: Yes, these were Precursor to be sure.

Edward took the little chest and returned to the Jackdaw. But something was missing. Or rather, some **one**. "Where's our Portuguese captain?" he asked. 

"He had outlived his usefulness," Roberts said, his voice oily and dark. Desmond hadn't spent a lot of time with this guy, but he already kinda disliked him. 

Edward surely must have known what was meant by this but, bless his heart, demanded a more straightforward answer. "Where **is** he?"

"Sleeping soundly at the bottom of the sea."

"How many men must we kill for a simple prize?" Edward asked, fire burning behind his words.

"As many as drift into our path!" Roberts snarled.

Desmond felt Edward clench his jaw, and knew he was itching to protest more, but wasn't going to. He messaged Rebecca again.

Hey, when does he become an Assassin and stop doing missions with assholes like this guy?

uhhh.... later

Real helpful answer, Bex. Real helpful.

 

* * *

 

It took Desmond a couple tries to successfully get through the rest of that memory, what with a dozen big-ass enemy ships chasing down the one Edward stole.

Eventually, though, the Jackdaw and the Portuguese galleon were out of danger. Edward handed the little chest to Roberts, who gleefully opened it.

"Here's my prize! Ah... the Templars have been busy I see." He picked up one of the transparent cubes. "Laurens Prins' blood. Useless now." He tossed that one to Edward. "Woodes Rogers. Ben Hornigold. Even Torres himself. Small quantities, kept for a special purpose."

Desmond wondered how the hell Roberts could tell whose blood it was, and relayed this question to Becca.

i guess cuz hes a sage maybe like the firts civ part of him has that abilty

Huh?

oh shit we forgot to tell u abuot sages!! bacicly they somehow hav 2 minds, a human one and a first civ one, in 1 body

How does that work?

we dont exactly know

Is it like what I have, with my DNA? Wait, am I a Sage?

it might be dna rlated we're not sure. but no ur'e not, deffnitly not. u're like somethng even more rare n special Des 

Edward peered at the Blood Vial a few moments before turning back. "You must take me to the Observatory, Roberts." It was a demand; spoken in a civil tone, but a demand no less. "I need to know what it is."

"To what end, eh? Will you sell it from under my nose? Or work with me and use it to bolster our gains?"

Edward shrugged impishly. "Whatever improves my lot in life."

Roberts grinned at him. "How ridiculous. A merry life and a short one, that's my motto. It's all the optimism I can muster." Then he went back to peering at one of the Vials.

Edward stared.

After another moment, Roberts chuckled. "All right, Captain Kenway. You've earned a look."

This simple statement made Desmond so excited he could feel his heart beating in his temples, and his connection to the Animus seemed to go a bit wonky. Then Roberts and the rest faded into grey-green digital noise, and he realized that "connection going wonky" was actually Rebecca pulling him out.

He ground his teeth and gave her a look. "Becca, did you not hear what he said? We're about to go to the fucking Observatory! Ya know, the thing we need to find before Abstergo does?!"

She gave him a look back. "You're at your ninety minutes. I'm sorry. I promised Bill."

Desmond rubbed his head. "I feel fine, really. We're almost there. I can go a little more."

"I promised Bill," Rebecca said again, with more feeling.

"Fine, fine!" Desmond stood up. "What is it, Spencer's turn to go in?"

"Alphabetical order," Rebecca answered, typing as she spoke. "McCorquodale, Miles, Russ, Vermaak."

"So Stacey, then. Does she even know how to sail a ship?" Desmond saw Rebecca's facial reaction and quickly explained himself. "I don't mean 'cause she's a woman, I mean 'cause she's a doctor."

"Could ask the same about you, 'cause you're a bartender."

"I'm lots of things, I'm multi-talented," Desmond started to protest.

But Rebecca spoke over him. "She's done well in her sessions thus far, so just go get her and let's find this Observatory already."

Grumbling internally, Desmond fetched Stacey and followed her back to the Animus. Andrew had awoken from his nap and was starting to whine, so he scooped him out of the basket and pulled a chair up to watch the session.

Stacey did a damn fine job actually, sailing the Jackdaw all the way down to Jamaica in little time. (Although, Rebecca explained, there was a bit of a time-lapse effect when traveling long distances in a genetic memory.)

"When we take this treasure, we'll be set for life," Edward boasted to Adéwalé, who did not look exactly thrilled. "All of us. Ten times over." Then he spotted Roberts' ship and called out a greeting.

Roberts called back with disdain, "You were followed, Captain Kenway. How long for, I wonder?"

Edward turned round to see two ships coming close behind them. "It's Hornigold!" Adéwalé shouted.

Roberts shook his head like a disappointed father. "Deal with your old friend in haste, captain. Before I regret my favor to you."

"I'll burn and flay that turncoat," Edward said in a vicious growl, and spun the Jackdaw's wheel sharply to chase after Hornigold.

Adéwalé sidled up beside Edward. "Captain, think carefully about what you mean to do here."

"What are you grousing about, Adé? It's Ben Hornigold come to kill us out there!"

"Can you say with certainty that you deserve the Observatory more than he and his Templars?" 

"No, I can't! And I don't care to try." Edward pushed Adé aside. "If you've a better idea, by all means tell me."

"Forget working with Roberts!" Adéwalé implored. "Tell the Assassins. Bring them here and let them protect this place."

A smirk grew over Edward's face. "Aye, I'll bring them here... if they're willing to pay me a good sum!"

Adéwalé shook his head and gave up.

Desmond looked from the screen to Stacey in the Animus lounger. It was absolutely bizarre to him, seeing the kind healer placed in the shoes of such a selfish bastard.

The memory continued, with Stacey-as-Edward destroying Hornigold's ship (which Rebecca informed him was named after Benjamin himself), running it aground, then chasing the Templar over a rainy island full of ruins. Desmond had to get up and change Andrew's diaper, so he missed the actual assassination, but this didn't bother him.

He returned in time to see Edward walking through a dense jungle path. Several corpses hung above him from vines like nooses around their necks.

"Ah, you see here? The handiwork of men born and bred to protect this place. The Guardians of the Observatory," Roberts said.

"How long have their kind been here?" Edward asked.

"Oh, at least a thousand years or more. Dedicated men. Very deadly."

"Hey, that sounds like Assassins!" Desmond said, leaning forward in his seat.

Colin was watching too, and he nodded. "I reckon a special sub-order of Assassins; focused exclusively on defendin' this one place."

"They will put up a fight, Edward," Roberts said. "Are you willing to push back if necessary? To kill if needed?"

Desmond frowned. "Do we really gotta watch this asshole killing Assassins? We know what island it's on now, why don't we just fuckin' go?"

"It'll be protected, locked up somehow," Rebecca said. "We need to see how Edward got in and out in one piece before going there ourselves."

A message rolled onto the screen from Stacey:

I'll take care of them non-lethally.

"Oh, good. Appreciate it," Desmond said, and Rebecca relayed his appreciation in a chat reply.

The memory took longer that way, but Stacey, being a not-Desmond, was allotted double the Animus time. At last they reached the deep interior of the island jungle, a chamber with blocky gray architecture weakly reminiscent of Turin's Grand Temple.

"You're definitely recordin' all this?" Colin asked Rebecca. "EHD backup and such in case of more power surge strikes?"

"Yes, definitely," she assured him.

Roberts walked up to the blockaded entrance. "All it needs is a drop of my blood... and the door opens, after almost eighty thousand years."

"Ooh, so Sage's blood is the open-sesame," Colin noted, rubbing his chin.

"Does that mean we have to dig up Bart's old-ass body?" Desmond asked.

"There's other Sages," Rebecca said. "Theoretically," she added a second later.

"Maybe we can try my blood," Desmond said. "I mean, you did say I'm even more special."

"Worth a shot." Rebecca opened a window on one of her many screens and started drafting an email. "I'm letting Bill know our progress. Maybe Gavin or somebody knows how to get their hands on- Woah!"

This "Woah!" was in response to Roberts shooting all his teammates dead except Edward, who was stricken with shock. "Jaysus, Roberts! Have you gone mad?"

"Quite the contrary, Edward." He gestured with his gun at the dead men. "These wags would have gone mad at seeing what lies beyond this gate. But you, ah... I suspect you're made of sterner stuff." He grinned thinly. "Now, pick up that chest, and carry it hither."

They walked through the dirty and decrepit halls of the Observatory. Edward expressed disbelief that the place was actually eighty millennia old. Roberts lamented that it wasn't like he remembered it. A plethora of those strange cube-vials lined the walls. Dust stirred up from every step they took. Desmond commented that there wasn't any stupid dust in the Temple.

They came to a sort of platform, and Edward set down the crate. Then the ground rumbled underfoot. "What's that noise?"

"A security measure; just a moment." Roberts produced a shining object from a pocket of his robe. The modern-day onlookers inhaled: it was a Crystal Skull. Roberts placed this into a device, a ring of golden metal, and the rumbling stopped. "There we are."

Desmond sighed. "So we have to have one of those too, or else... something bad happens, presumably."

"Maybe the 'security' is the place just self-destructs," Colin supposed hopefully. "That's what we want, innit?"

"Self-destructs _with us in it, Col,_ yeah that sounds like a blast."

"We'll figure something out," Rebecca said, typing intensely in her email.

The metal rings spun and brilliant gold light projected from the device onto the cave's back wall- like a cross between a hologram and a movie projector. A scene began to play.

Edward gasped. "This is bloody witchcraft!"

"No," said Roberts coolly. "This is Mister Jack Rackham. Somewhere in the world, at this moment."

"This is happening right now? We're seeing through his eyes?"

"Aye."

"Jesus," Desmond breathed. "It's like an Animus in real-time."

"More yellow-shifted and flat than Animus visuals, but yep," Colin said, folding his arms and sitting back. "The minute they put any of our blood in there, we're boned."

Andrew shifted and snuffled a wet cry. "Don't worry," Desmond assured him. "We'll make sure that never _ever_ happens."


	19. The Experience of a Father

It was raining again, and thus Andrew was crying again.

Desmond wearily paced up and down the hall, rocking him in his arms to no avail. "Jesus, how does rain scare you so much? It's just water! You can't be scared of water; you were fucking born in water! Remember, that nice calm peaceful waterbirth?"

As the weeks wore on, Desmond had grown to understand Andrew's various sounds with a degree of fluency that astounded everyone else. There were the soft coos when he was pleased by one of Desmond's funny faces; the needy, kitten-like mews when he was hungry; the uncomfortable whines when he needed a change....

And then there were the outright screeching bawls like what he was doing now. Desmond had quickly determined these type of long, drawn-out, air-rending noises to indicate Andrew was scared or in pain. Sometimes the kid woke up in the dead of night suddenly crying like that, and Rebecca joked that it was karmic compensation for the many times Desmond had awoken them last year.

Not finding her suggestion humorous at all, Desmond dearly hoped these night terrors didn't mean Andrew was having the same sort of horrific stuff happen in his innocent little mind. He'd asked Stacey and Rebecca both, "You're sure the Animus didn't affect him? Really sure?"

"Well we can't be sure of his mental state when he can't talk to tell us what's going on in his tiny head," Rebecca had said, "but seriously, Des, I can't think of any plausible mechanism for _you_ being in there giving _him_ issues." And Stacey had said much the same thing.

It didn't one-hundred-percent take his mind off the possibility though.

Tonight, as Desmond wearily paced down the hall, rocking the kid in his arms, he recalled the shitty times he'd had with that goddamn Bleeding Effect. Sometimes it was as mild as seeing foggy images of old landscapes out the window, or hearing echoes of battle coming from an empty hall. Other times Shaun or Rebecca or Dad would become Malik or Rosa or Haytham, and he would speak to them as Altaïr or Ezio or Ratonhnhaké:ton, and he would end up bewildered, or even angry, at their odd responses.

Even the less severe instances, Desmond thought, might be scary to experience as an infant. Did the pelting incessant raindrops resemble too much the sound of machineguns spraying bullets... or something? _I never synced a memory of any time period that had machineguns... but who knows what all Clay synced, and Andrew might-_ "No," he said aloud to try and convince himself, shaking his head. "Andrew is just a baby, and babies cry sometimes."

Andrew inhaled wetly, then started another wail.

"Babies cry _a lot_ of times, I'm learning." Desmond snorted a bitter chuckle. "All right lil guy, I'm holding you and rocking you and talking to you; what else do you need?"

In answer Andrew kicked out sharply, hitting Desmond square in the armpit.

"Ow, you little fucker," Desmond said without thinking, and then noticed Colin standing a little ways down the hall. "Shit, did I just call him- Col, you know I didn't mean that."

Colin just said "Mm," in a way that was open to interpretation.

"It's just, he keeps crying and crying and- usually I can calm him down pretty quick, but tonight-"

Andrew kicked again. Desmond scowled down at him. "Okay, you're getting on my last few nerves, kid. Do I gotta duct tape your legs down or something?"

"Oi, you can't do that," Colin said. "Free movement of the legs promotes natural hip development. Don't want him growin' up all knock-kneed, do ya?"

"I wasn't _serious_ , Col, god." Desmond adjusted his hold on the crying wiggler. "Do we got any Piece of Eden that controls the weather? He can't stand the rain."

"I've noticed," Colin said with a smirk. "Didja try puttin' on music?"

"Yeah but he still hears the rain through it."

"Does, eh? What we need then are teeny baby headphones..." Colin snapped his fingers. "Rebba's got small ears! I wager we can use her 'phones for a bit, just lemme grab 'em from her room." And he dashed away without wasting another second.

Desmond was severely skeptical that Rebecca's headphones would fit Andrews wee little head, but it turned out they were a type that gently clipped onto the outer ear. They still looked ridiculously big on him, but apparently they worked: when Rebecca cued up her "Soothing Classical" playlist, Andrew's eyes grew wide as he took in the weird new experience of direct-to-ear music. He was so entranced that he totally forgot to cry.

"Good job Col, Bex." Desmond clapped them on the shoulders. "I hereby dub you two the Baby Geniuses."

"Hah, you're pretty genius at it yourself," Rebecca said.

Desmond gave a humble smile.

 

* * *

 

Andrew fell asleep to some dulcet Debussy soon after that. Slow and careful as if he were pickpocketing a guard, Desmond removed the earphones so Andrew wouldn't tangle in the cord as he slept, then sighed with relief as he slipped out of the room. "That kid better get over his rain-o-phobia, 'cuz life in the Assassins involves a hundred other scary things," he said to Rebecca who was waiting in the hall.

"Scary things like investivating an ancient ruin?" she asked with a half-smile. "Bill emailed back saying we're a go for the expedition to Jamaica."

"I doubt Andrew's going along on that; he's a bit young for field work," Desmond chuckled.

"True," Rebecca chuckled back. "It's gonna be Gavin's team, plus a little bit of you," here she tapped Desmond's arm- "by which I mean a vial of your blood to open the door with. Hopefully."

"Let's think positive on that point," Desmond said. "Although on the plus side, if ya need a Sage to get in there, Abstergo can't get in either."

 

* * *

 

"Have you started Alice training yet?"

Gavin's question came just as William hit the send button on his email to Rebecca. He looked up from his tablet and blinked.

"Knowing you, Bill, you want her pulling her weight as soon as possible," Gavin said with a glinty look in his eye. "But she's just had a baby, so I was going to try and convince you to stave that off a little bit."

William put a hand to his temple. "No, we have not started training her yet, Gavin," he said with a sigh in his voice. "She won't be ready for field work for... perhaps several years." _How long can I keep faking the existence of a recruit?_

Gavin smiled. "Well that's generous of you, Bill. Give her time to recover and adjust to her new life."

"Mm." William stood up. "They've located the Observatory." Handy, that he had this news to distract from the topic of Alice.

"Already, nice!" Gavin clapped his hands together. "So, what's the plan?"

William walked as he talked. "A quick stopover back at Vermont to get a sample of Desmond's blood, then down to Jamaica and hope to hell that blood will open the door." He looked over at Gavin walking beside him. "Unless you have word on any Sages."

"Sages?" Gavin worked his jaw a couple moments. "There's... been no _solid_ reports since World War One."

"What about Jones?" William pressed.

"The singer? No, no. Best intel shows he just has your typical rock-star strange personality, and wears different-colored contacts at some shows. Abstergo's grasping at any straw they can find.... So who do you like for the Observatory mission?"

"Susan and her crew obviously, since we'll be taking the Altaïr II down there. Plus we'll want one or two more to round out the offense. Hm." William looked over the scattered group of Assassins in the fenced-off training yard. "Shahvir seems quite capable. Have they done any serious field work before?"

"Back in India, yes. You should see their speed in a fight. And they're a prodigy at blending into crowds too."

"Good, good. And I'll send Mr. Vermaak along as well. We might only get one shot at this; best to have as many hands on deck as we can spare."

 

* * *

 

Last night's bout of crying had really worn Andrew out, apparently. Since falling asleep a little after midnight, he'd not awoken until ten in the morning, and then conked out again after a diaper change and feeding.

"Bizarre sleep schedule," Desmond commented over lunch. "Heh, good thing I don't have a job, so I can basically make time for him whenever he needs it."

"Assassin is a job," Rebecca said lightheartedly. "Sure, you don't get a paycheck and you don't punch a clock-"

"Punch Templars instead," Colin said through a wide grin.

Desmond chuckled. "It's a living."

"It's a _killing_ , that's what it is."

"Heh," Desmond said again. "I haven't done much of _that_ for a hella long time, except in the Animus." He looked over at Stacey. "By the way, you do pretty good in there."

She smiled a silent thanks for the compliment.

"Bet it's kinda weird for you, huh? Like, well, I mean it's always kinda weird for _anyone_ , experiencing the life of a stranger," Desmond clarified, "but for you it's gotta be kinda extra weird, experiencing life as a man."

"Oh... It's unsettling, yes." Stacey stirred her soup. "But I've gotten used to it."

Desmond nodded quickly. "Right, yeah, today ain't the first time you've been in Edward's memories."

"It can be a real eye-opener, livin' as someone different," Colin said. "[There's a fascinatin' bit of audio, did you hear it,](http://assassinscreed.wikia.com/wiki/AE_files:Subject_1_-_interview_session) from the stuff Shaun leaked us?" he asked, leaning to Rebecca. "Vidic and his first ever Animus subject? The white guy relivin' Aveline?"

"Oh man, I did listen to that," Rebecca said with a pained look on her face. "It was dated 1981. Fuck, Vidic was putting people through the wringer for _over thirty years_ , can you believe it?"

"I'm so glad I got to end that motherfucker," Desmond said, spearing a hunk of potato with his fork for emphasis.

"Ah, but there are always more motherfuckers." Colin leaned his head back on his chair. "No matter how many you end, there's always more."

"Col, stop." Desmond shoved his arm. "C'mon, you're way too young to already sound so defeated."

Colin snorted a laugh. "Can't get a bleak cynical outlook till I'm old like you, is that the rule?"

"Nah. Wait till you're old like my dad." Desmond gestured across the table to Spencer. "See, he's about halfway there."

Spencer batted Desmond's hand away. "Positivity's good and all, but you got to keep a realistic mindset. It's true, the Assassin-Templar conflict is not going to end, no matter how many of them we take down."

"Well, that also means we'll keep fighting back," Desmond said brightly, "no matter how many of us they take down."

"That's the spirit, Dezzy," Rebecca said, raising her water glass to salute him. "Never give up; never surrender!"


End file.
